


Scenes From Lives Less Ordinary

by loves_books



Category: The A-Team (2010), The A-Team (TV), The A-Team - All Media Types
Genre: 100 Themes Challenge, Alternate Universe - Dragons, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Body Dysmorphic Disorder, Corsetry, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mpreg, Multi, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Shattered - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-18
Updated: 2020-09-21
Packaged: 2021-03-01 17:41:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 100
Words: 63,147
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23721019
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/loves_books/pseuds/loves_books
Summary: Because these four men are nothing if not extraordinary.
Relationships: B. A. Baracus/H. M. "Howling Mad" Murdock, B. A. Baracus/H. M. "Howling Mad" Murdock/Templeton "Faceman" Peck/John "Hannibal" Smith, B. A. Baracus/Original Female Character(s), B. A. Baracus/Templeton "Faceman" Peck, H. M. "Howling Mad" Murdock/John "Hannibal" Smith, H. M. "Howling Mad" Murdock/Templeton "Faceman" Peck, Russell Morrison/John "Hannibal" Smith, Templeton "Faceman" Peck/John "Hannibal" Smith
Comments: 547
Kudos: 61





	1. Introduction (H/F)

**Author's Note:**

> I'm in lockdown, I'm on furlough, and I want to write, but I'm struggling with ideas. So I found a 100 themes challenge (link in the end notes) and I'm writing one a day. Pairings will vary, tags will almost certainly change, but I'm determined to keep these as light and fluffy as I possibly can, because we all need to smile right now and hopefully these will make someone smile. Enjoy, and take care of yourselves!  
> LB x

“I swear, it works perfectly for every name, every time!”

“I’m not so sure.” Hannibal took a long, indulgent drag on his cigar, letting the comforting tobacco fill his lungs while being careful to keep the burning end safely away from where Face was snuggled on his chest. “Every name? Prove it.”

“Peck. Templeton Peck.” It was said with a near-perfect British accent, overflowing with confidence, and Hannibal had to admit it did sound pretty damn impressive. But then, Face was pretty damn impressive.

“All right,” Hannibal whispered with a smile. “I’ll give you that one.” Craning his neck, he leaned down and pressed a firm kiss into Face’s rumpled curls, and Face made a happy little noise before somehow crawling even closer, long arms locked around Hannibal’s waist where they lay together on the sofa. 

And Face, perhaps predictably, wasn’t done yet. “Murdock, Henry Murdock. Or, you’ll like this one, Baracus, Bosco Baracus.”

Hannibal could see where this was going, and he wasn’t yet convinced. “Yes, well – ”

“And of course, Smith. John Smith. That’s the best one. See? James Bond knew what he was doing. The perfect introduction, every single time.”

Stroking his free hand up and down Face’s long spine, Hannibal chose to take another puff on his cigar rather than answer, though he should have known that wouldn’t slip past his wily lover for long.

“John?” Sure enough, Face shifted slightly and lifted his head enough to rest his chin on Hannibal’s collarbone, close enough to kiss, his blue eyes suddenly showing concern. “Isn’t it perfect?”

“Works for nearly every name, I’ll give you that much,” Hannibal said eventually, trying to avoid those questioning eyes. “Smith, Hannibal Smith – now _that_ has an impressive ring to it.”

Face freed one hand from where he’d slid it far beneath Hannibal’s back, plucking the cigar from Hannibal’s fingertips and somehow resting it in the ashtray on the coffee table without even blinking.

“I prefer John,” he said softly, and Hannibal felt his cheeks heat unexpectedly at his lover’s serious tone. “I met Hannibal, but I fell in love with John.”

There was something in Face’s openness and honesty that made Hannibal feel he could speak with equal honesty.

“There’s a thousand John Smiths in the world, sweetheart.” Hannibal buried his suddenly-empty hand into those curls he loved so much, cradling the weight of his lover’s head as Face leaned into the touch. “A million, maybe. Two million. Or three.”

Before he could go on, Face suddenly tipped forwards just enough to claim Hannibal’s lips in a burning, passionate kiss that ended all his protests. When they finally broke apart, Hannibal panting a little for breath, Face smiled up at him and told him firmly, “There’s only one of you, John Smith, and _you_ are all mine.”

Hannibal actually felt his heat skip a beat at that, and he smiled back as he gave in to the urge to flip Face over until his lover was pinned beneath him on the sofa. “You are all mine, too, Templeton Peck, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

“Say it for me, then?” Face blinked up at Hannibal, almost innocently, his blue eyes shining brightly now, twinkling with glee as he begged, “Go on, please?”

And Hannibal pressed his weight down a little harder, relishing the groan of happiness he earned from his lover, before finally giving in and obediently growling, “Smith. John Smith.”


	2. Complicated (BA/F)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A sort-of sequel to one of my earlier BA/F stories, 'On The Same Page', though this easily stands alone if you haven't read that.

They lay side by side on the bed in the sticky and sated aftermath, both flat on their backs, both breathing hard. Together, even though they weren’t quite touching, as they tried to catch their breath and slow their racing hearts.

Typically, Face was the first one to break the silence, and the stillness, with a full-body stretch that rocked the bed, followed by a loud yawn. “Fuck, Bosco, we’re good at that.”

Finding he was still barely able to summon the energy to speak after his earthshattering orgasm, BA instead managed to huff what he hoped was a sound of complete and utter agreement.

“Every single time, no matter how long it’s been since the last…” Face felt like reminiscing, apparently, and BA smiled into the darkness, rolling his head over on the pillow until he could see his sometime-lover’s profile in the shadows of the motel room.

“Been too damn long,” BA mumbled with feeling, and watched as Face’s shadow nodded.

Nearly a month this time since they’d had the opportunity to indulge. A long mission, then time in barracks, then a week at Hannibal’s, and no time alone, not for this. Not for any of this.

“I missed you,” Face suddenly whispered into the night. “Even though you were right there the whole time. Is that weird?”

BA felt something twinge deep in his chest, something warm and as-yet unspoken. “Not weird,” he reassured the other man softly. “I know exactly what you mean, man.”

It was getting more difficult, whatever this thing was between them. It had already lasted longer than BA had dared hope, stuck in a strange sort of limbo, with both of them poised on the edge of something more yet not quite daring to take the next step. He’d thought he was the only one who felt that way. Perhaps not.

Face sighed. “Do you remember what I said, the first time we did this?”

That was cryptic, even for Faceman, but BA smiled again. “Of course I remember.”

There hadn’t been many words exchanged, not really, not on that first passionate night. They’d both been high on adrenaline after their close escape from Mexico and from Tuco, both almost delirious with exhaustion, and yet somehow so incredibly horny that they’d fallen on each other hungrily.

The few words they had shared were burned into BA’s memory for all time.

Face took a long breath in, held it a moment, then released it slowly. BA could see the familiar shape of his lover’s muscular chest rising and falling, and his fingers ached to reach out and touch. Yet he held still, not wanting to disturb whatever Face was working through.

“I told you that I don’t do complicated,” Face said eventually. “Do you remember?”

“Of course I remember. More than three years ago, Face, but I remember.”

“I meant it. I really did, but lately, I don’t know…”

It was more between them than just damn god sex; it had been more from the very start, really. They talked. They shared personal space. They fit together, somehow. Things were just… easy. And good. 

BA took a deep breath of his own, and dared to suggest, “Complicated doesn’t have to be a bad thing.”

A soft laugh surprised him, then the mattress shifted beneath them as the other man rolled up onto one hip to face BA. “I guess not.” Only inches apart now, the details still lost in the shadows, yet BA didn’t need light to know how his lover’s eyes would be shining brightly. “I’ll say it, then. I want to say it.”

“Face…”

“I’ve said it before, to others, but I don’t think I’ve ever meant it until now. It’ll change things. And it’ll make things complicated, I know it will.”

“Templeton…”

“I love you. I’m in love with you. And I want more than just this.” Face huffed his own soft, amused sound, not quite a laugh and not quite a sigh. “Is that complicated enough for you, Bosco?”

BA rolled up onto his side to match his lover, their lips only a breath apart now. “Not complicated at all,” he told Face as he finally lifted a hand to stroke up into those soft curls. A hot hand came to rest on his hip even as Face slipped a leg determinedly between his own, and they slid closer together, fitting together almost perfectly. “Real simple actually. I love you too.”

Then, without it even mattering who made the first move, they were kissing, softly, tenderly, and the silence knitted back together around them as they lay together, warm and safe and protected from the world.


	3. Making History (H/F)

Maybe this hadn’t been such a good idea after all. Rather than looking surprised and happy, Hannibal just looked confused as he held the box of chocolates Face had just presented him with, and Face just felt slightly sick.

“What’s this for, then?” Hannibal asked with one eyebrow crooked upwards, hands already working to open the box even as his shrewd blue gaze remained locked on Face.

“Does there have to be a reason?” Face swallowed down his doubts and pinned on his biggest and brightest smile, willing it to reach his eyes. “I saw them and thought of you. I know they’re your favourite, and I know they’re hard to find. Isn’t that reason enough?”

Hannibal had already managed to get the box open and popped the first one into his mouth just as Face finished speaking, immediately closing his eyes in obvious bliss and groaning with happiness in a semi-pornographic manner. Face felt his forced smile relax into something far more genuine as he watched the man he loved enjoying something so simple. This had been a great idea after all.

“It’s not an anniversary, is it?” Hannibal suddenly mumbled around his mouthful of dark chocolate heaven, eyes still closed. “Our first date was November twelfth. We became ‘official’ on January second. We said ‘I love you’ at the very end of March last year. It’s April twentieth now; what have I forgotten?”

“You remember all those dates off the top of your head?” Face blurted out the words without thinking, and Hannibal’s eyes popped wide open again, clearly surprised. “I mean, I remember all the dates, but I didn’t think – ”

“Of course I remember all the dates, sweetheart.” Hannibal placed the box of chocolates down on the coffee table, handling it as delicately as he handled the most sensitive hand grenade. “Every date with you is an important date, so how could I ever forget?”

Two huge hands came up to cradle Face’s head, and Face let himself be pulled gently forwards into a tender kiss.

When they finally broke apart, Hannibal still keeping him close, Face sighed happily. “You’re an old romantic, John. I always knew it.”

“This old romantic is wondering what he’s done to deserve this thoughtful gift.” One hand left Face’s head and reached away to snatch up another tiny chocolate treat. “Are you sure I haven’t forgotten something? You’d tell me if I had, wouldn’t you?”

Face shook his head as much as he was able, with Hannibal’s huge paw still holding him in place, and then parted his lips to allow his lover to slip that chocolate into his mouth. It was rich, bitter, sweet… everything all at once, and he could see exactly why the older man loved them so much.

As Hannibal tugged him closer into an embrace, rearranging their bodies until Face was nestled right up against Hannibal’s chest, Face allowed himself a small smile of relief. He really hadn’t wanted to explain himself to Hannibal – it was nothing but a personal landmark, an unremarkable Monday of making history that was important to no one but himself, and something that needed acknowledgment but not discussion in any way.

Seventeen months, eight days. One day longer than Face had been with Charissa. Six months and ten days longer than he’d ever been with anyone else.

Hannibal was truly the love of his life; Face had always known it, from the first time he ever saw the man, but it felt perfect to finally reach this day.


	4. Rivalry (M/F)

Face was dozing right on the very edge of sleep, the pillows soft and the sheets cool, his body sated and mind settled, when suddenly a soft voice spoke up.

“You awake, Facey?”

As tempting as it was to stay silent, Face knew his lover well enough to understand that Murdock wouldn’t be fooled for even an instant. “Just about,” he admitted, his voice coming out rough and croaky. “Didn’t think you were?”

The mattress suddenly shifted as Murdock rolled closer from where he’d settled on the far edge of their bed. They rarely feel asleep in each other’s arms, each of them needing their space, yet it never failed to amaze Face how they always woke up tangled together. He was never sure if Murdock reached for him or if he reached for Murdock. Perhaps it really didn’t matter.

“Ask you a question?” Murdock sounded more than half-asleep, accent heavy and voice deeper than normal.

Stifling a yawn, Face answered, “You can always ask me anything. I may not be awake enough to answer, though.”

Fully expecting something completely random from his more-than-a-little-crazy baby, Face was almost pleasantly surprised when Murdock eventually asked, “What do you think of rivalry?”

“Rivalry? In what way?” If in doubt, stall for time. It was a tactic Face had used since day one when having conversations with the other man; nine times out of ten, Murdock just needed to think something through out loud.

“Rivals are always out to get the other person,” Murdock mumbled. “Should be more supportive.”

That didn’t make things a lot clearer. “Depends on why they are rivals. There’s such a thing as friendly rivalry,” Face offered, and Murdock grunted.

“Like who?”

It was nearly two in the morning, and Face’s brain really didn’t want to cooperate. Eventually, he came up with, “Batman and Superman? Or Magneto and Professor X?”

Another grunt. “More enemies than rivals.”

“Army and Navy?”

“Same! And don’t get me started on the Air Force.” Oh fuck no, that was a black hole of hell that Face did absolutely not want to stumble into.

“Murdock, baby?” he started, suspecting this whole thing was about something more personal.

“Yes, Facey?”

“Which rivals are you thinking of in particular? Do you have a rival for something?”

Murdock’s silence spoke volumes. Face rolled over himself and reached out into the darkness until his questing arms found his lover, and he pulled the smaller man close.

“Has someone said or done something?” More silence. “Baby, please tell me. Whoever it is, or whatever they’ve done, if someone’s hurt you – ”

“It’s not like that.” Murdock snuggled a little closer still, until he was pressed right up against Face’s chest, and Face obediently wrapped his arms tight around the slender yet strong body. “I’m usually good with it, when it happens, ‘cause you’re gorgeous and of course it’s gonna happen, but that girl in the bar tonight…”

Oh. _That_ sort of rival. Face knew he had to choose his next words carefully. “Murdock, you have to know I did nothing to encourage her, and I barely spoke to her.” Blonde hair piled sky high, huge breasts right on display, incredibly touchy-feely with Face’s left bicep, and he’d gotten away from her as quickly and politely as he could to return to the man he loved.

“I know, I know.” Murdock’s words were barely a breath against his chest. “I trust you.”

“Then what…?”

“There’s always gonna be rivals, isn’t there?”

Face felt a lump rise in his throat, and he rubbed one hand up and down Murdock’s back, leaning down a little to whisper straight into his lover’s ear. “Listen to me, baby. There aren’t any rivals. You will never, ever have a rival for my love. No one else will ever come close to you.”

A tiny sniff was the only response at first, then Face felt Murdock nod against his skin. The silence held though, and gradually he realised Murdock had fallen asleep in his arms for once. And, for once, Face was comfortable enough to fall asleep himself.


	5. Unbreakable (H/F)

_You can build me up, you can tear me down, you can try but I’m unbreakable..._

It hasn’t always been smooth sailing, this thing between them. There have been times when it’s been rough, times when Hannibal has had to put Face down for his own good. It’s the only way to learn, sometimes, and Face knows he’s been blessed to learn from the very best.

He also knows Hannibal hasn’t always been in love with him. But Face has been in love with Hannibal since the very first moment he saw the man, long ago.

Twelve years now, since Face was just another number in a class of recruits all desperate to make it into Ranger school. Twelve long years, since Hannibal was one of a dozen assessors, the only one who ever mattered to Face, who hadn’t been Face yet.

Templeton Peck had wanted nothing more than to be worthy of Hannibal Smith, but it took years of hard work before Hannibal finally recognised Face’s love for what it truly was. Years of lectures and training and do-it-again-Lieutenant and I-know-you’re-better-than-this.

It was all worth it, though, and it wasn’t always difficult. Face knows without a doubt that he wouldn’t be the man he is today if he’d never met Hannibal, and if Hannibal hadn’t pushed him so hard. He knows Hannibal invested far more time in him than he really had to, and he’ll be grateful until the day he dies.

Hannibal always took the time to build Face back up whenever he got torn down. Hannibal took the time to nurture the talent he could see, and to squash the beginnings of any bad habits before they could take root. Maybe he did that because he could see something in Face, some potential love, or maybe he was just being a good Colonel.

Through it all, regardless of Hannibal’s reasoning, Face just loved Hannibal with his whole heart. Call it hero worship, call it lust, call it a soul bond, call it True Love – call it anything you like, but Face knows that, for him, it’s been love since that very first moment.

And now, finally, Hannibal is his. Hannibal loves him back, spends time and effort showing Face how much he loves him, reassures him that he will always be loved, and how precious he is.

There are still hard days, when Face screws up and Hannibal has to be the Colonel, but even those days end with Face cradled in Hannibal’s arms, falling asleep on his lover’s strong chest and soothed by a steady and unfaltering heartbeat.

The strength of his love for Hannibal goes beyond anything else he’s ever known in his entire life. His love for this incredible man is truly unbreakable, and he knows there is nothing life can throw at them in the coming years that will ever shake them apart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _You can build me up, you can tear me down, you can try but I’m unbreakable..._
> 
> From the song 'Heart Of Stone' in the amazing musical 'Six'.


	6. Obsession (BA/F)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Change in rating for this chapter only from Teen to Mature/Explicit...

The warm, wet hand that slid unexpectedly down onto Face’s chest from behind him would normally have had him spinning around with fists up, but thankfully he knew they were alone in the shower block, and he’d taken the precaution of locking the door behind them. Rather than fighting it, he leaned backwards, trusting Bosco to support his weight as that stroking hand roamed further down to tease at a nipple.

“Damn, Faceman,” BA growled into his ear, and Face shivered as a second hand came around and up to cup his pectoral. “Looking good.”

He preened a little at the compliment, though he knew exactly how good he looked. “You think?” he purred, dropping his head back to rest on BA’s strong shoulder as skilled hands stroked circles over his chest, squeezing at his muscles and tweaking occasionally over his nipples, everywhere and nowhere all at once. “Been working out.”

“I know. I was there, man. You hefting those weights, shirt off and all shining with sweat.” BA nipped at Face’s earlobe before dipping lower to suck at Face’s neck briefly, and Face gasped as he tilted his head back further, offering his neck gladly even as the hot water was suddenly blasting full into his face. “It was like you were teasing me. Showing me what I couldn’t touch.”

“I had no idea you were watching.” Well, that was an outright lie; Face had known the exact moment his lover entered the gym, always hyper-sensitive to those dark eyes watching his body. But he hadn’t been teasing BA. Not deliberately, at least.

BA turned them slightly so the water was hitting them at an angle, and Face reached his hands back to cup his lover’s toned backside as BA continued to stroke those strong hands over his chest, swiping patterns back and forth through the dark hair there. Something he’d done before, actually. Lingering more on the hair than the nipples, Face realised belatedly, and kneading occasionally at the muscles, but – 

“Bosco, weird question: are you enjoying my chest hair?” 

A deep growl and a press of teeth to Face’s jugular, as one clever hand stroked down the trail of hair onto Face’s stomach and down to his happy trail before pressing into his lower belly, just shy of where his straining cock was rested in its own bed of curls. “Got a problem with that?” BA rumbled, his own cock now nestled snuggly between Face’s ass cheeks. 

Face was finding it suddenly hard to take a deep breath, even though the water wasn’t hitting him directly any longer. “Not a problem,” he gasped. “Really, really not a problem.” Who was he to judge someone’s obsession?

“Gorgeous,” BA whispered, his words nearly lost in the drumming of the water over their slick bodies. “You ever thought about shaving?”

Tried it once, loved the look until it started to grow back, itchy as hell, but hey, Face was nothing if not willing. “Is that something you’d like?” he offered breathlessly, but BA’s hands both cupped firmly over his pecs and pulled him back hard, possessive in the most perfect way.

“Hell, no.” BA was thrusting gently now, and Face desperately wanted more, but he hadn’t thought to smuggle lube in this time, and water wouldn’t quite do the job. Plus, they were in the middle of the base and they only had so long until someone started banging on the door to the communal showers. It was a miracle they’d been left alone this long.

Reluctantly he started to pull away, very much enjoying the groan of complaint from his lover, and spun around to pull BA into a quick embrace beneath the rapidly cooling water before suggestively whispering into his ear, “Want to help me dry off then take me to bed?”

“Oh, hell, yeah.”

BA stole a quick kiss before reaching behind Face and thumping the off-switch with far more force than was required. But before Face could move far or even grab a towel, the shorter man suddenly dropped his head and pressed a firm, lingering open-mouthed kiss to Face’s sternum, big hands swinging up to cup Face’s shoulder blades and keep him pinned in place as his knees turned to water.

This was looking like an obsession Face could get right behind.


	7. Eternity (M/F)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little angst crept in here today, though hopefully there's still a little fluff too....and I thought I was doing so well, trying to keep these light...

“There you are, baby.” Murdock’s voice startled Face, as it came out of nowhere; he’d thought he was alone, sitting on the wooden step of the porch around their current rundown safe house, in the middle of absolutely fucking nowhere.

“Just watching the night, getting some air,” Face replied over his shoulder, trying to make his own voice sound normal, and hoping it would be enough to send Murdock back to bed. “I’ll be in soon, I promise.”

Apparently, and perhaps predictably, it wasn’t quite enough to put the other man off. “Mind if I join you?” Murdock asked quietly, soft footsteps crossing the porch until he stopped just behind Face. “I’ll be real quiet.”

Face had to bite his tongue to resist the urge to tell his lover to go away. “Sure,” he managed instead, and Murdock dropped quickly down by his side, shoulder pressed to Face’s shoulder and knee pressed to knee.

And to Murdock’s credit, he did indeed stay quiet. Face felt his focus drifting back out into the fields and the mountains he could barely see in the dark hours after midnight, the sky too cloudy to allow much in the way of moonlight or starlight. “It goes on forever,” he found himself saying, to his surprise, and the other man grunted softly by his side, part question and part agreement.

“The world is a huge and wonderous place,” Murdock said after a long moment of silence, but Face shook his head.

“It’s not that. I mean, it _is_ that, the world is enormous, and the sky… But it all goes on forever. Everything.”

Face wasn’t even quite sure what he was trying to say. It was one of those nights when everything just felt too much, though that still wasn’t enough. 

Murdock seemed to understand, though.

“Life,” the pilot said knowingly, and Face found himself feeling suddenly a little choked up as he nodded.

“Yeah,” he whispered, squeezing his eyes shut against the shadows of the plains ahead of them. “It’s endless. And nothing changes. Another day, another safe house, repeat ad infinitum.”

“Don’t get fancy on me, using your Latin.” Murdock leaned closer, slipping one arm around Face’s shoulders to tug him into a loose embrace. Face let himself be tugged, keeping his eyes firmly shut, as his lover continued, “I know why it bothers you. It gets to me too, sometimes, being on the run, not being able to settle in one place. But you know what gets me through?”

Face had to swallow hard before he could reply. “What gets you through?”

“You do. And Hannibal, and the big guy too, of course. Because an eternity spent on the run with you is an eternity spent with you, regardless of the reasons why. And that’s enough for me.”

Maybe one day it would be enough for Face, too. But for the rest of the night Murdock sat with him, hugging him silently, and when the sun finally came up, illuminating the mountains and the fields and the empty spaces all around them, they stood together and went quietly back to bed arm in arm.


	8. Gateway (gen)

Face couldn’t help himself. They were sitting right there on the table, exposed, calling to him. They were so good. One more couldn’t hurt, surely…

But just as he reached out, in the split-second before his fingers made contact, someone slapped his hand away and snatched the plate out of reach. “Hey!” 

“They’re not for you, Facey.” It was Murdock, of course, the man responsible for baking the worlds best triple chocolate cookies, and apparently their guardian.

“You already let me have one,” Face pointed out, noting the tiny whine that had appeared in his voice as he shook out his hand; Murdock had quite a slap on him. “And BA had two!”

“BA’s allowed as many as he wants, because I made them for him.” That was a more than fair point – they’d drugged him and put him on a chopper again yesterday – but Murdock’s logic was surely off.

So Face made another grab for the cookies as Murdock lifted the plate further out of reach across the kitchen table. “You gave Hannibal two as well. So you owe me another one, buddy, come on…”

“Nope.”

“Just one!” Was he begging? Yep, he was, and Face decided he couldn’t bring himself to care. He wanted another cookie. They were so damn good, and Face had been so good lately that he surely deserved one… “Please, Murdock, just another cookie!”

Murdock shook his head almost sadly, cradling the plate closer. “I just knew it,” he said slowly. “Some guys just can’t handle the sugar.”

“Murdock – ”

“It’s almost like a gateway drug,” Murdock continued thoughtfully, dancing away around the table with the tempting cookies as Face advanced on him, eyes fixed on the prize. “You’re so careful about what you eat – which is why you look the way you do – but then you let yourself have one cookie and that one leads to another cookie leads to triple chocolate mud cake leads to you hating me and making me swear – ”

“Murdock!” Face gave up chasing him around the table and went under instead, hands and knees and a quick scramble that still wasn’t quick enough. “I could never hate you! I can handle one more cookie, I don’t have a problem!”

“That’s what you said last time. And just what an addict would say.” Murdock nodded sagely, deftly sliding the cookies into a container and depositing the plate in the sink. “You’re cut off, Faceman.”

“But I can handle it!” Face insisted, even as Murdock ducked swiftly out of the kitchen, taking the cookies with him. “Murdock, please!”

Damn. A sudden thought occurred, and Face lunged towards the sink instead: Murdock hadn’t loaded the dishwasher yet, so maybe there was cookie dough left in the bowl or on the plate or – 

Shit. Maybe Murdock had a point after all.


	9. Death (H/F)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A brief reassurance that, in spite of the title of this chapter, I'm still trying to keep these light and positive: there is no character death here!

Hannibal was exhausted and he knew he should sleep while he could, but he also knew he wanted to enjoy this moment for as long as he could, and burn the picture safely into his memory. Opportunities like this didn’t come along every day, after all.

He settled himself on his side, propped up on one elbow with chin in hand, and carefully tugged the blankets back up from where they had slipped down. The sleeping beauty by his side didn’t even stir.

It had been quite a night, and both of them had been nearly desperate after a long two months away on deployment with almost no alone time. They’d had to be on duty the entire time, which was only right, but the moment they’d landed back in the States all the pent-up lust and need had become nearly too much to bear. They’d barely made it back to Hannibal’s house before falling on each other.

And now, Face was sleeping the sleep of the deeply exhausted and truly satisfied, and Hannibal’s inner Alpha male was crowing contentedly at the mess he’d made of his lover. He’d brought Face to orgasm three times, and after the third, well… Face had managed a lopsided smile before pretty much passing straight out into the pillows, leaving Hannibal to deal with a cursory clean up before crawling into bed by his side.

Face was always beautiful, both inside and out, but seeing him relaxed and calm and deeply asleep in the way he was now? That was a rare and precious sight. Like all of them, like Hannibal himself, Face usually slept on a knife edge, always ready to be awake and alert and fighting if need be. Like all of them, true sleep came rarely, only when they could truly trust that they were safe and with someone who would protect them.

The fact that Face trusted him enough to sleep so deeply was something that never ceased to amaze Hannibal.

He let his eyes roam over his lover’s familiar profile, over features he knew almost better than he knew his own, drinking them in. Strong brow, smooth and relaxed in sleep. Eyelids closed loosely, hiding the brightest blue eyes he’d ever seen. Full lips, pink and tempting, parted ever so slightly, then down to the heavy stubble covering the handsome jawline. And all around, loose curls framing it all, longer than Face would usually wear them after their time away, splayed out on the pillow as if deliberately arranged that way.

Hannibal swallowed hard, resisting the urge to reach out and touch. Face needed to sleep – hell, Hannibal needed to sleep too, after the long months of hard work as well as the evening’s exertions, but he could keep his eyes open a little longer. Long enough to gaze at the long neck laid bare for him, Adam’s apple barely visible and pulse steadily thrumming, and long enough to drink in the exposed collarbones and muscles of his lover’s naked chest. 

The steady rise and fall of that perfectly toned chest as Face breathed slow and deep was almost hypnotic, and was somehow reassuring too; Face had fallen so still so suddenly that Hannibal could have feared that death had snuck into the room to claim him, but there were a thousand signs that Face was still alive, and Hannibal would do anything and everything to ensure he stayed that way.

But sleep was calling now, and Hannibal’s eyelids were growing too heavy. Reluctantly, he reached behind himself just far enough to flick off the bedside lamp, plunging the room into darkness at last. He shifted down in the bed and stretched out fully, his own head sinking heavily into the pillows, and a soft sigh of satisfaction slipped from his lips, though Face still didn’t stir. Hannibal had to smile to himself as his eyes slipped shut; if ever there was a living embodiment of the phrase ‘la petite mort’, then Face was surely it. 

Or, perhaps not. Just as Hannibal felt his consciousness slipping away, a warm body suddenly pressed itself against his side, a head coming to rest on his shoulder and a hot hand sliding around his waist. And all was right with Hannibal’s world as he slid his own arms around Face, settling him in closer as they fell asleep wrapped up in each other.


	10. Opportunities (gen)

BA had to admit, he was surprised by just how artistic Face’s doodles were, especially since they’d each downed four or five beers and more than a handful of shots. Maybe his judgement was off, or maybe there was just a reason Face was so skilled at forging documents.

“You could’ve been an artist, brother,” he told Face, patting the other man gently on the shoulder and trying not to jostle him as the lieutenant was busy putting the finishing touches to his masterpiece.

“You’re far too kind, Bosco.” With a flourish, Face sat back on his heels wearing a grin that was completely cat-that-got-the-cream and had far too many teeth. “You sure you don’t want to have a go?”

BA shook his head firmly, immediately regretting it when the room spun around him; a few shots too many, perhaps. “Nah, man, I ain’t got your skills.”

“I think you’ll regret it in the morning, if you don’t.” Face waved the Sharpie at him, and BA would’ve been a liar if he said he wasn’t sorely tempted, but he folded his arms determinedly and Face just shrugged. “Fair enough. I just think you’re missing out on the opportunity of a lifetime.”

Damn Faceman and his silver tongue. Despite his best intentions, BA found himself asking, “How’d you mean?”

“Think about all those times he’s flown you in a plane or a chopper against your will…” Face tailed off and pursed his lips almost sorrowfully. “I know you can just punch him, and you do, and I know he makes it up to you with baked goods, but the humiliation and the embarrassment…”

It was indeed humiliating and embarrassing when it happened, but there was a bigger picture here. “You’re the one who usually drugs me unconscious first, Face.”

“True, true.” Face offered BA the Sharpie again, almost apologetically. “And I’m sure you’ll have your vengeance on me someday. But opportunities like this don’t come around every day.”

BA hesitated again, his eyes now locked on the marker pen – well, as focussed as he could be, given the way the room was spinning around them all. “I don’t know, Face,” he started. “He’s pretty good at getting his own vengeance. And he’s gonna know it was us. There’s no way Hannibal would do anything this petty.”

“Exactly!” Face crowed as if in victory, pushing the Sharpie into BA’s unresisting fingers before stumbling out of the way. “See, he’s already going to think you were involved, so you might as well!”

“Might as well what?” BA was losing Face’s train of thought now, and he was aware he was being manipulated, and he didn’t like it. Though perhaps they were all too drunk for it to matter much.

“Might as well have a go!” Face looked as smug as all hell, nodding with satisfaction as BA flicked the lid off the Sharpie. “Yeah, that’s it. About damn time.”

And as BA gazed down at the sleeping Murdock, lying on his bunk in a blissfully drunken haze, he finally gave in to temptation. Face had done some truly fine work – a moustache, a goatee, cats whiskers and nose, penis on the forehead – but there was still enough bare skin left for BA to have some fun.

“Stand back, Face.” BA let loose an evil laugh as he buried one hand in Murdock’s hair to brace their pilot, as he lowered the Sharpie carefully into position. “This is going to be epic.”


	11. 33% (gen)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A sequel to chapter 10, because it had to be done when I saw the prompt!

Face couldn’t quite believe what he was seeing, staring back at him in the bathroom mirror. Perhaps he was still dreaming. He blinked, rubbed his eyes, yawned. Nope, still there.

He lowered his head back down over the sink, splashed some more water over his face, and rubbed a little harder with the towel. That would fix it, surely.

Huh. Maybe not. Still there.

Not good.

Concentrating hard, working through a faint hangover, Face managed to read the writing on his forehead by reversing it in the mirror. There for all the world to see, in neat black block capital letters, were the words ‘I’m a pretty boy’.

Face found himself feeling strangely calm, though he suspected it was the calm before the storm. Or the sort of calm brought on by severe shock.

Hands braced on the sink, he took a deep breath and then shouted, “Murdock? Could you come in here for a moment, buddy?”

“Sure thing!” Footsteps, then a creak as the bathroom door swung open. “What’s up? You found another grey hair? Oh.”

“Oh, indeed.” Face’s calm was melting rapidly. “Look, it was more than two weeks ago, and we said we were sorry a thousand times. Why would you do this to me today?”

Murdock threw his hands up and shook his head wildly, the very picture of innocence. “Wasn’t me, I swear!” He was clearly trying very hard not to laugh, and rapidly failing.

“What wasn’t you, fool?” Oh, wasn’t that just perfect, Face thought bitterly: of course BA would turn up. “Get your ass out of the bathroom, Face, I ain’t got all day.”

“Did you write on Bosco too?” Face shouldered past Murdock, clutching at the towel wrapped around his waist as he went, and slammed straight into a clear-faced Bosco right outside the door.

BA took one look at him and didn’t even try not to laugh, dissolving instantly into a fit of giggles that took the wind completely out of Face’s sails.

From behind him, still in the bathroom, Murdock managed to speak through his own choked laughter. “It’ll fade away, Face. Mine went in a week; I can show you how to use concealer in the meantime.”

“I know how to use concealer!” Face roared, just as Hannibal, with perfect timing as always, stepped into the hallway, and Face appealed to their colonel immediately. “Hannibal, Murdock drew on me!”

“No, I didn’t!”

Hannibal held up one hand for silence; they all obeyed, well-trained soldiers that they were. “Face, calm down. Murdock, did you draw on Face?”

“No, Sir.”

Before Face could do more than take a breath to interject, Hannibal turned to their other teammate. “And BA, did you draw on Face?”

BA managed to calm his giggles after a few painfully long moments. “Technically, someone wrote on Face – and wrote the truth – but no, Sir, wasn’t me.”

A sudden thought occurred to Face, like a lightbulb switching on and he spun to stare at Hannibal in horror. “You! You did this to me!”

Hannibal crossed his arms firmly over his chest and frowned slightly at Face, with no hint of a smile on his features. “Be very careful what you say to me next, Lieutenant.”

Face barreled straight on. “You confiscated all the Sharpies after the last incident, and you locked them in your room!” It was all falling into place, but Hannibal’s eyes narrowed dangerously.

“Are you accusing me of doing something so ridiculously juvenile as writing graffiti on my Lieutenant’s face, on the very day when he has to give a presentation to the entire regiment?”

Shit. Well. When you put it like that… Face swallowed hard, his certainty faltering under his Colonel’s gaze. “Well, one of you three did this to me,” he hissed, pointing his finger first at Hannibal before swinging it around to include the giggling Sergeant and the openly-laughing Captain. “Who was it? Own up, you coward!”

But Murdock shook his head again, swallowing the worst of his laughter. “Fair’s fair, Face, and you’ve got a thirty three point three three three recurring percent chance of blaming the right person!”

BA nodded sagely. “33%, brother,” he agreed. “One in three.”

Hannibal rested a firm hand on Face’s bare shoulder, squeezing surprisingly gently. “Could be worse,” he told Face softly. “One in three indeed. Or, instead, you could just accept that you had this coming and then you could let Murdock help you with the concealer.”

Face considered it for a long moment then let his head drop low. “I hate you all.”


	12. Dead Wrong (H/F)

Hannibal barely managed to keep a straight face until the two of them were finally outside the meeting room, with the door safely closed behind them, hardly able to believe they’d actually gotten away with it.

Face, it seemed, had the exact same feelings, shooting a sideways smirk at him as they walked side by side down the corridor, falling into perfect step just as they always did, until Hannibal reached out and seized the younger man by the elbow, swinging them both into an empty conference room. 

Instantly, Face fell into his arms with a strangled noise that could have been a laugh or a sob or something in between, and Hannibal, startled, fell back against the wall even as his arms instinctively came up and around his boy. With one booted foot he kicked the door closed before burying his nose in Face’s hair, taking a few long deep breaths.

“Shit, boss,” Face whispered, his own arms snaking up and around Hannibal’s neck. “We did it!”

“I never had any doubt.” Well, that was something of a stretch of the truth, and Hannibal laughed softly as Face snorted in his arms. “Okay, I never had any doubt about _us_.”

Three months on their very best behaviour, trying desperately to prove to the higher-ups that the two of them could be trusted in the same chain of command after some bastard outed them. 

Three months of being so painfully careful not to cause any offence, or disobey orders, or say the wrong thing to the wrong person at the wrong time.

Three months of keeping everything behind closed doors on pain of being separated. Not that they had ever gone out of their way to advertise their relationship in any way, not in the ten wonderful years they’d been together, but Hannibal knew that this time his superior officers meant business. They’d been looking for a reason to pull them apart, any reason, and he and Face had been determined to stay together, which meant proving they could be professional.

Face’s grip around Hannibal’s neck loosened slightly. “I’ve never doubted us for even a second,” he said with a tenderness that just about melted Hannibal’s heart. “But they really wanted to be right about our relationship, and I have to say, that made me wonder if they had a point.”

“Face, sweetheart…” Hannibal slipped one hand under his lover’s chin and guided Face’s head up; bright sapphire blue eyes were surprisingly damp, though Face was still smiling, and he met Hannibal’s kiss willingly. “They were never right about us. The fact that we’re together and in love is just one of the many reasons we work so brilliantly together.”

“And now everyone knows that, and we can relax a little.”

Hannibal chuckled, kissing his boy again. “Only a little. They might’ve been wrong – ”

“Dead wrong,” Face cut in, with a wider grin.

“But we still need to be sensible,” Hannibal finished, sliding one hand up to cradle Face’s head while he used his other to cup his lover’s firm, beautifully toned ass.

Face quirked one eyebrow at him in question. “And we’re starting that plan of being sensible by making out in conference room C?”

Hannibal paused for barely a second to consider. Well, they _had_ been very good for three months…


	13. Running Away (Mama B and H/F)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tags updated: Mama B (my version of BA's mother) wasn't planned, but she decided to show up anyway! 
> 
> Also, a little more angst crept in here, though there's still a little fluff too. Because Mama B makes it all better.

She hasn’t asked him, and he hasn’t told her anything, but she’s desperate to know.

He’d turned up on her doorstep a little after noon, all alone, her Templeton, with just a small rucksack on his shoulders. He’d had his hands buried deep in the pockets of his designer jeans, shoulders a little hunched up, and a wide yet false smile plastered on his handsome face. It was the sort of smile that would fool anyone else, she’s sure – there’s a reason they call him Face – but she’s not just anyone.

Templeton isn’t the one who usually turns up unannounced. Her son, her Scooter – Bosco by birth, but always Scooter to her – he’s shown up unexpectedly from time to time, usually bearing a bunch of flowers with a last-minute two day leave. Murdock came twice, when he was doing some test flights that had brought him to Chicago, and even Hannibal, the eldest of her son’s team, had turned up once, when she’d broken her arm and Scooter hadn’t been allowed leave for another week, no matter how many strings the Colonel had tried to pull.

But Templeton? This is new, and that means she’s worried about him. But she doesn’t ask, doesn’t put any pressure on him at all, not until late in the evening after he’s helped her cook dinner and then done all the washing up, when they’re settled side by side in front of the television on her tiny sofa.

“Not that it isn’t wonderful to have you here with me, baby,” she starts carefully, keeping her eyes on the movie rather than turning to the handsome young Ranger by her side. “But if there’s anything on your mind…”

He goes as stiff as a board, and immediately she regrets saying anything. “I know I owe you an explanation, Mama, a reason – ”

“No, no.” She rests one hand on his knee, squeezing gently to silence him. “You don’t owe me anything, Templeton, certainly no explanations or reasons. Being family means you can turn up at any time and be welcomed in.” She can almost hear his wry laughter and anticipates his comments about never having had a family before. “You can take my word for that, okay?”

Templeton does laugh then, though it’s a soft, twisted little sound. “I don’t really want to talk about it,” he offers her then. “Not yet, anyway. If that’s okay.”

“Then we don’t talk about it.” She squeezes his knee once more before letting him go, picking up her teacup instead and cradling it in both hands. “Jut so long as you know I’m here to listen, if you ever do want to talk.”

He surprises her then, leaning close enough to press a quick kiss to her cheek. “Thank you,” he whispers, sounding a little choked up. “I do know that, and I’m so grateful. I promise it’s nothing bad, I’m not running away from anything, I just…”

He tails off, and she nods, swallows. “You just take your time, Templeton. There’s no rush here with me.”

“What did you tell them?”

It takes her a moment to figure out what he means, but of course he would have guessed that his teammates had been in contact with her. “I haven’t replied to Hannibal or Murdock’s messages,” she tells him. “And I told Scooter that I’d call him back tomorrow.”

That makes him laugh again, sounding a little more natural now. “Neither confirm nor deny?”

“Exactly!” She figures he’s had his own phone switched off all day, most likely. He’ll have to talk to them sooner or later, whatever’s happened, especially Hannibal who must be worried sick. It’s fairly likely that one or two or all of them will turn up on her doorstep tomorrow.

But Templeton will know all of that, and she doesn’t need to tell him. At least he’s come to her rather than disappearing off into nowhere. She won’t push him, but she can coddle him a little, and feed him up, and let him stay quiet for as long as he needs. She can be a safe place for her boy.

“Thank you,” he says again, and she turns to him at last, this complicated, handsome, sweet young man with his movie-star good looks and sparkling blue eyes and his damaged past.

She smiles at him, leans over to kiss him on the cheek, and tells him, “I love you, Templeton Peck, but we’re missing the movie.”

And he wraps one strong arm around her shoulder as they settle in again. Let tomorrow bring whatever it might bring; at least he’s safe with her tonight.


	14. Judgement (BA/F)

BA had spent many a sleepless night wondering how this scene would play out, and he could safely say he had never, ever considered this as a possibility, not even in his most drunken nightmares.

Sitting close by his side, though they weren’t quite touching, was Face, who was a study in casual confidence, blue eyes calm and relaxed. BA himself was much more tense, every muscle in his body on edge and his brain racing. And opposite them both, looking unexpectedly angry, sat Murdock.

No one had spoken for nearly five minutes.

“Say something,” BA growled eventually, and Face immediately rested a soothing hand on his knee, squeezing gently. “Whatever you’re thinking, just say it.”

Murdock just narrowed his eyes and shook his head, staring pointedly at Face’s hand. Face just sighed, rolling his shoulders loosely, and BA felt himself tense even further, if that was possible.

Face spoke up next. “Murdock, buddy, we’re not asking for your permission. But we’d like your understanding.” That was very well put, and BA relaxed a fraction, leaning slightly into his lover’s side as Face continued calmly, “I’m sorry we didn’t tell you sooner, and I hope you know we really would’ve done if there was any way.”

“You’re only telling me now ‘cause Hannibal found out,” Murdock muttered, folding his arms defiantly across his chest, and BA wondered how much of the other man’s anger was from being left out and how much was because of BA’s relationship with Face.

“It’s not ideal,” he found himself saying. “We couldn’t tell anyone, Murdock. But we’re not ashamed.”

“Then what are you?” 

BA and Face spoke in unison, as if they’d practiced it a thousand times. “We’re in love.” 

And to BA’s surprise, that seemed to deflate Murdock quite effectively. “Really?” the pilot asked, cocking his head curiously to one side. “I don’t get it.”

“What is there to get?” Face asked, and BA spared his lover a quick sideways glance. 

Murdock gave them both a long, appraising look up and down, and BA felt painfully exposed. Another long moment passed before the pilot gave his verdict, such as it was: “Well, I know it’s not my place to sit in judgement on anyone, but Face, you’re… you know. And Bosco, well, you’re… you know.”

BA growled, all his tension returning in a heartbeat. “We’re both men, is that what you’re saying?”

“No, no!” Murdock looked horrified, throwing his hands up and leaning backwards. “No, hell, that doesn’t matter! What I mean is, Face is pretty and you’re, well…”

To BA’s surprise, Face actually started laughing. “You had me going there, buddy. Are you actually saying I’m too pretty for Bosco?”

“Well, obviously!” Murdock managed to keep a straight face for barely a few seconds before dissolving into giggles of his own, and all the tension flowed from the room as if it had never been there, though BA bristled for an entirely different reason.

“I am every bit pretty enough for Face,” he heard himself say, but his lover and their trickster of a friend both just laughed even louder, though Face did manage to turn and press a sloppy kiss to his cheek as if in apology. 

Oh hell, who was BA kidding? Face was the pretty one, and BA was just fine with that. And it looked like things were going to be just fine with his crazy team and their new dynamic too, when they smoothed out a few speedbumps in the road.


	15. Seeking Solace (M/F)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things got a little angsty again, sorry, though again I hope there's enough fluff here too.  
> LB x

Murdock snuggled closer, feeling Face obediently tighten his arms, and he sighed happily, burying his nose into his lover’s chest and inhaling as deeply as he could. 

Face laughed, very softly, and Murdock actually felt it rumble through the toned chest beneath him. “I take it you’re feeling a little better?” Face asked then, and Murdock nodded without lifting his head.

“Much better,” he mumbled with another tiny sigh. “But not good enough that you should let go,” he added quickly, worrying that the strong, anchoring grip that was grounding him so completely might suddenly vanish.

But the arms squeezed tighter still, so tight that for a second it stole Murdock’s breath away. Perfect.

“I’m not going anywhere,” Face whispered, pressing a firm kiss to the crown of Murdock’s head. “I’m all yours, for as long as you want me.”

Murdock smiled, contented. “I want you always.”

“Then I’ll be here always.” It amazed Murdock how Face always knew just what to say, and just how to wrap Murdock up so completely when the corners of his mind threatened to blow away to the four corners of the world.

They lay there together for a long time, so long that Murdock simply lost all track of time, cradled safely against Face’s powerful chest as his brain slotted back into place and the walls solidified around them. And he found himself wondering, something he’d never asked before, and never even noticed.

“What do you do, Face?” he asked quietly. “When you need comfort, where do you go? You don’t come to me, I know that much.”

A near-imperceptible tensing of the powerful body beneath him before Face clearly forced himself to relax. “Murdock, baby, I don’t…”

“It’s okay, that you don’t come to me.” Murdock figured Face had never really had anyone to turn to when he was growing up. “I need someone to hold me, when I’m seeking solace, but we’re all different. I just wondered what you need?”

The silence grew between them again, and Murdock wondered if he’d pushed too far, but then it was Face’s turn to sigh. “Honestly,” Face said eventually, his voice so soft that Murdock had to strain to hear. “Usually, I just need space. To be by myself.”

Murdock hummed in understanding. “That makes sense. You just walk around?”

“Not always. I go for a run, or to the gym, or I do sometimes walk, but only if I can’t do anything else.”

“Endorphins,” Murdock guessed, and that made so much sense, for his Face, that he felt foolish for not guessing earlier.

“Yeah.” Face squeezed tightly again, and Murdock finally felt solid enough to squeeze right back again. “That’s what works for me. And this is what works for you.”

“This is what works for me,” Murdock whispered happily in reply, as the last of today’s demons disappeared for good.


	16. Excuses (BA/M)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tags updated to include BA/Murdock, who insisted on being a part of this little writing exercise.  
> LBx

BA felt his hopes fading rapidly away, the longer Murdock took to reply to his simple question. He’d known it was a long shot but still he’d been hopeful. He was always hopeful.

When the silence eventually reached deafening levels he took pity on the other man. “You know what? Forget I asked, okay?”

“Bosco, baby…” Murdock sighed and shook his head. “I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to be.” BA forced a smile, though he feared it showed as more of a grimace. “I should know better than to ask.”

“Still, I really _am_ sorry.”

And Murdock did look sorry, even though he also looked uncomfortable, which was the last thing BA ever wanted.

“No, I’m the one who should be sorry. I know you’re just not there yet, and I still went and asked you.”

Murdock ran a hand back through his crazy mop of hair, baseball cap missing for once, in a familiar gesture that made BA’s heart skip a beat. “I want to be there,” Murdock said softly. “And I don’t know why I’m not.”

BA managed a shrug. “I’ll stop asking,” he offered. “Until you’re ready. Until you _are_ there, then I’ll stop asking.”

“No, no, no!” Murdock looked absolutely aghast at the idea. “No, Bosco, don’t do that. I want to say yes, I really do, but…”

“There’s always a ‘but’. Always excuses and reasons and explanations.” BA squeezed his eyes shut, bit his tongue, feeling his worst fears starting to surface again from where he’d forced them deep down inside. “I don’t want to be the needy one, so I think we should change the subject and forget I asked.”

“Bosco, baby…” Murdock reached out and seized BA’s hands in his own. “I’m pretty sure I’m the needy one here. You’ve given me so much, and you put up with so much, but I can’t give you this one thing.”

“It’s just dinner,” BA heard himself say. “We wouldn’t even have to call it a date. We could just be two guys eating a burger together.”

But Murdock fell silent again. BA sighed softly, trying to resign himself to having a relationship that existed entirely behind closed doors. He didn’t want to shout it from the rooftops, but dinner out might be nice once in a while, or a movie, when they weren’t in a warzone. Three wonderful months together, yet Murdock wouldn’t – or couldn’t – change a thing.

Still, this was the best relationship BA had ever had, and he would wait for as long as his crazy baby needed. He leaned closer and kissed Murdock firmly on the lips, turning his hands in Murdock’s grip until he could squeeze his lover’s hands tightly. “Promise me one thing: no more excuses, okay?” he told Murdock with a small smile. “Don’t blame the weather, or work, or the little green men. You just say no, not tonight. Or maybe, one day, you say yes.”

Murdock managed a smile of his own, stealing another quick kiss. “One day, sweetheart. I promise.”

And to BA’s surprise, when he asked again two days later, that ‘yes’ finally came.


	17. Vengeance (H/F)

Face had to admit, staring down at the intricate layout of maps, models, zipwires, toys, and notes on the main table in their planning tent, it was shaping up to be one hell of an epic and impressive plan.

It was also more than slightly terrifying, to say the very least.

Hannibal was standing proudly over his latest plan, with the kind of glint in his eye that screamed confidence in all his decisions, and the sort of smirk that had sent better men than Face scurrying for cover. The wreath of cigar smoke hanging over and around his shining silver hair was truly the crowning glory.

Face swallowed hard, thinking quickly while trying to keep his features carefully neutral. A quick glance across the planning table to Murdock and BA showed that he certainly wasn’t the only one with concerns.

Murdock’s eyes were wide and unblinking, and he shook his head wildly when Face managed to catch his eye. BA, on the other hand, looked angry, but it was a bad angry rather than his usual everyday-angry, and he glared at Face in a way that just screamed ‘you fix this, you’re the XO’.

When Face looked back to Hannibal, the gleaming blue-grey eyes had narrowed into a questioning stare that suggested Face might have waited just a fraction too long before answering, though the shit-eating, overly-confident grin was still fixed in place around the cigar now clamped between locked jaws.

“Well?” Hannibal asked again, speaking to the room at large, though his gaze remained locked on Face alone. “What do you think? I need feedback, gentlemen, please.”

Face straightened his posture carefully, spreading his hands palm up in what he hoped was an unthreatening gesture. “It’s certainly… comprehensive,” he started slowly. “Though there’s a small, tiny, miniscule chance that it goes too far too fast.”

Hannibal actually seemed surprised at the very idea, and quirked one eyebrow up in question. “Too far? Too fast?”

“Maybe. I mean, looking at the bigger picture – ”

“The bigger picture, Lieutenant, is that we are going to wipe them off the face of the earth and claim our vengeance.” It was said with such unabashed glee that Murdock actually took a step back from the table, and BA visibly flinched.

“This would certainly achieve that, Colonel, and no one can pull off a plan like this in the way that you can.” Face wondered how best to phrase his next comments, eventually figuring he had nothing to lose but his life. “This might actually wipe them off the face of the earth, sir, and we have to remember that it’s only – ”

“If the next words out of your mouth are ‘only a paintball tournament rematch’, then you will be sleeping on the sofa for the next month.” Hannibal waved his cigar in a loose circle that included Murdock and BA. “And as for you two, it’ll be nothing but latrine duty for the next year.”

“Hey, hey, boss, no fair!” Murdock finally found his voice, though Face feared it was too little too late. “We’re on your side, honestly. No one hates to lose more than we do, but really – ”

“ – this is taking things too far!” BA took over seamlessly, and Face bit his lip, bracing for Hannibal to explode and ready to hold their colonel back if needed.

But Hannibal, to their surprise, threw his head back and roared with laughter; Face knew better than to relax, as it was far from likely that this entire plan was a joke, and more likely that Hannibal was just plotting his next move.

And sure enough, when Hannibal calmed a fraction, his next words chilled Face to the very core. “Colonel Edwards needs to learn that we don’t take our losses lightly. We strike at dawn.”


	18. Love (HBAMF)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tags updated to include HBAMF, because why not!  
> LB x

Whenever Hannibal stopped to think about just how lucky he was, the sheer wave of overwhelming emotions that swept over him nearly threatened to bring him to his knees. So, as grateful as he was, he tried hard not to think about it all too often. He had to be the Colonel, had to be in control at all times. He couldn’t afford to be the emotional one. If he got emotional, someone might die.

But still, sometimes, he couldn’t avoid the gut punch that came when he looked at his three boys, each so different yet each so perfect in their own way.

The fact that the four of them, from such different walks of life, had found their way together – either by accident or design, it didn’t matter – never failed to take Hannibal’s breath away. 

Firstly, and always, came Face. Gorgeous yet broken, brilliant yet doubtful, confident yet nervous. A man of many contradictions, hiding behind the masks he wore to fool the entire world. But for some reason, he’d learned to trust Hannibal, and had trusted in Hannibal’s love. Had loved him back.

Secondly, Bosco Albert, better known as BA. He’d slammed into Hannibal’s life like a rhino in the middle of Mexico and somehow never left, carving out a place for himself in Hannibal’s heart and earning his place there a thousand times over.

And thirdly, but never lastly, was Murdock. Always just Murdock, a name that could mean a million things and yet fitted so perfectly. The man Hannibal had always hoped to rescue from Mexico, if they’d had a chance, and of course Murdock had immediately rescued them instead, and his joy and delight and, yes, his sheer utter craziness had won Hannibal over immediately.

Hannibal had never dared dream of a life when the four of them might truly be together. It was enough, surely, that they were the best and most successful Alpha unit ever known to the United States military. To try for anything more would be tempting fate, surely. And while Hannibal liked to take a risk or three, he wouldn’t risk these three men, not for anything.

But his boys, his darling, precious boys had taken things into their own hands. They’d approached him one night, cornering him really, and laid all their cards on the table. They loved him, and they loved each other, and they all wanted more. But only if Hannibal wanted more.

How could Hannibal even have considered saying no? Even if he’d had his doubts – and he would be a fool not to have a few, about chain of command and age and temperament – he couldn’t stand against the will of the three best Rangers he’d ever had the privilege to work alongside.

Which had all led him here, ten years since he’d met Face and seven years since he’d found Murdock and BA, on a rare weekend off in the small house Hannibal had been able to buy near base so many years earlier. It had only ever been a house until his three young lovers moved in, then it had finally become a home, when the bedroom that had been his alone had become their bedroom, with the addition of the largest bed Hannibal could possibly find. 

Those three young lovers were still asleep; understandable, perhaps, as the sun was barely over the horizon, and their bedroom was barely lit. Hannibal had time yet to drink his fill of the three contrasting beauties sharing his bed, of Face’s curls and dark morning stubble, of BA’s relaxed muscles, of Murdock’s sweet huffs of breath. He had time yet before they awoke, time to let himself feel all the emotions he tried to control so often.

He was one of the luckiest men alive, and the love he felt for these three remarkable men couldn’t be described with mere words.


	19. Tears (H/F)

_“Don’t cry, Shop Girl. Don’t cry.”_

As Tom Hanks and Meg Ryan finally fell into each other’s arms, and as the soaring melody of Somewhere Over The Rainbow swelled higher and higher, Face felt his chest tighten with emotion as his eyes welled up. He’d seen this movie what seemed to be a thousand times and it still never failed to punch him right in the heart.

Behind him, spooned up tightly against Face where they lay together on the sofa, Hannibal suddenly let out a sound that sounded ever so slightly like a sniffle. The arms locked around Face’s waist tightened fractionally, but Face just lay still and watched as Meg delivered her perfect final lines.

_“I wanted it to be you. I wanted it to be you so badly.”_

And then that was definitely a stifled sob, as Face felt Hannibal bury his nose in Face’s hair. Face slipped one hand into Hannibal’s where they were knotted at his stomach, and managed to reach back to bury his other hand in Hannibal’s short, soft hair.

He held his peace, feeling his own emotions swell as the film faded to show only sky, letting the end credits roll and letting Hannibal pull himself back together a little. Only when the screen had finally faded to black did he clear his throat and say softly, “You okay there?”

A deep, undeniably sniff. Then, “Perfectly fine.” Hannibal sounded more than a little gruff, and Face smiled to himself though he didn’t turn yet.

“Thanks for watching it with me, even though you hate romantic comedies.” Actually, Face knew his lover had a soft spot for a good rom-com, particularly when he was feeling under the weather, but Hannibal would never, ever admit that. “I still can’t believe you’ve never seen this before.”

Hannibal was still squeezing Face almost too tightly, but Face was very happy where he was, filled with a suitable amount of warm fuzzies. 

“It wasn’t as good as Sleepless In Seattle.” The comment, when it came, was quite unexpected and Face had to bite his lip not to laugh.

He managed to get himself under control before replying, “I actually think they’ve both just got better with age, Meg and Tom. And oh, that ending, in the park, and Brinkley…”

That won him another sniffle, and this time Face knew he did want to see Hannibal, so he twisted over and around in his lover’s grip until they lay face to face. “Oh, sweetheart,” he breathed, immediately noticing Hannibal’s damp cheeks and red-rimmed eyes. “Don’t cry, John.”

“I’m not.” 

Face ran the back of curled fingers gently down Hannibal’s cheek, wiping away the tears, and immediately feeling bad for his words. “You can cry if you want; I’ve cried at this film plenty of times,” he whispered. “It’s a damn good film with a happy ending, and happy tears are absolutely allowed. They found each other. Just like we found each other.”

At that, Hannibal managed a smile, with blue-grey eyes still shining too brightly. “I wanted it to be you,” he whispered back, and Face gave in to his own happy tears as they shared a slightly damp kiss and snuggled closer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Our boys are, of course, watching the wonderful 'You've Got Mail'.


	20. My Inspiration (BA/M + H/F)

There is nothing more intimidating in the entire world than a blank sheet of paper. 

BA had been clutching his pen for what felt like hours, staring down into the white void, and the words just wouldn’t come. He could actually feel his hand starting to cramp.

This was maddening.

“Having some trouble there, big guy?” It was Murdock, of course, come to gloat at BA’s misfortune. 

BA growled, still staring, still clenching his fist. “This should be easy,” he said through gritted teeth, as Murdock came to stand behind him at the desk, draping skinny arms around his shoulders and resting his chin on the top of BA’s head. “Why isn’t this easy?”

“I think it’s one of those things that’s easier on paper.” Murdock chuckled at his own joke, then quickly added, “No pun intended.”

“I know what I want to say. Why can’t I write it?” 

BA forced himself to take a deep breath, in and out, trying to relax. His eyes felt dry, and he realised he hadn’t blinked for what was obviously too long. Blank paper was seriously hypnotising.

Murdock shifted and leaned over just far enough to press his lips to BA’s forehead. “Would it be any easier typing it straight onto a computer?”

“I figured this would be good to start with, just get some ideas down before I tidied it up.” It had seemed like such a good plan, but BA was already running out of patience with himself. “Maybe you should do it after all.”

A soft laugh, and another kiss. “No, no, no. There’s a good reason they asked you to do it rather than me. I’d say something really silly, you know that.”

BA lifted his free hand to squeeze Murdock’s where they rested on his chest. “You’re going to say something anyway, aren’t you?” he asked knowingly, and his lover’s immediate giggle told him he was spot on with his guess. He’d have to remember to warn Face later on, though the other man had almost certainly already figured it out for himself. “All the more pressure for me to get this right, then.”

“It doesn’t have to be long, or complicated,” Murdock offered. “Keep it simple and speak from the heart.”

BA found himself nodding thoughtfully, his grip on the pen easing slightly as Murdock started to rub gentle circles across his pecs. He looked back down at the desk. “Speak from the heart… I can do that…”

But there was still a blank sheet of paper staring back up at him. BA swallowed hard. 

Then, a flash of… something. 

Murdock nuzzled him softly on the cheek as he craned his head around before resting his chin on BA’s shoulder. “What are you thinking?” he asked softly.

“Was trying to think what my inspiration for this speech was. Then, I just thought, that’s my theme. Inspiration.” BA laughed, just once, nodding as the idea started to take shape. “The two of them, together, inspiring us, and Hannibal inspiring me, and – that’s it. Yes.” 

And BA immediately lowered his pen to that white sheet of paper and started writing the speech he would give at Hannibal and Face’s wedding in two months’ time.


	21. Never Again (H/F)

“Left a bit… No, down… No, ah, fuck, that’s the spot…!

Face was finding it increasingly difficult not to just burst out laughing, though he knew Hannibal would not thank him if he gave in to the temptation; the Colonel was hanging on to his dignity by a very thin thread.

“There you go now, easy does it,” he soothed instead, one steady hand holding the cool pack in place to the left of Hannibal’s groin, the other hand smoothing imaginary creases in the thin blanket covering him. “Breathe through it.”

“Don’t you dare tell me to breathe.” Hannibal sounded pissed, and a little bit in pain, but Face knew it was mostly just embarrassment talking. “Next thing, you’ll be telling me it’s my own fault and that you told me this would happen.”

Well, actually, Face had warned Hannibal that he hadn’t thought it was a great idea, though he’d never dare use the words ‘I told you so’. The illustrated and annotated Kama Sutra had been a gag gift from Murdock and BA, but Hannibal had been determined to try it out and prove his… Face didn’t have the faintest idea what Hannibal had been hoping to prove. His virility? His masculinity? His flexibility?

Beneath his hands, Hannibal groaned a little, and Face shifted the cool pack slightly; just a bit of a groin sprain, and some bruised dignity.

He smiled down at his wounded lover. “It was a really nice idea,” he offered, and Hannibal just snorted.

“’Nice’ is not exactly what I was going for.”

“Then what were you thinking?” Face was genuinely curious. “I hope I didn’t give you the impression that I was looking to get more adventurous in the bedroom department?”

Hannibal blinked up at Face and shook his head slightly on the pillow. “Seemed like a good idea at the time, but I guess I’m just getting too old for that kind of sex.”

“You’re only as old as the man you’re fucking,” Face retorted with a cheeky wink, and that startled a laugh out of his lover at last, along with a smile. “That’s better!”

“I really don’t think that’s quite the right phrase!” Hannibal lifted a hand and placed it over Face’s on the blanket, sobering slightly. “Sorry. This wasn’t how I thought tonight would end.”

Face leaned down to kiss Hannibal’s apology away. “The night’s not over yet, but can we both agree that the book goes in the bin now?” 

Hannibal laughed again. “Donate it to the charity shop,” he suggested. “Some lucky young couple might be up for the challenge!”

“Not us, though.” Face didn’t say it as a question though he still quirked an eyebrow up and threw Hannibal another wink as his lover shuddered.

“Dear God, no. Never again.”


	22. Online (BA/F)

BA looked up from his book the moment he heard the front door open and click shut again, followed by the familiar sound of boots on the wooden floor of their hall.

He took a moment to carefully place his bookmark and settled his book on the coffee table, unable and unwilling to hide the huge grin that spread across his face. He’d been looking forward to this all day. The moment was finally here.

“Bosco?” Face called from the hall, and BA took a second to quickly unbutton his shirt before answering.

“In the den.” His lover had probably been near boiling point all day, and BA didn’t want his shirt ripped off. Not this shirt, anyway. He liked this shirt.

But the Face that appeared in the doorway two seconds later did not look like the Face that would be ripping any clothes off any time soon.

Face looked pissed, for want of a better word, though he also looked hot as hell, and BA’s mouth immediately started to water at the sight of his gorgeous lover in his BDUs. Heaven help him, he loved a man in uniform.

In his hands, Face was holding a medium-sized cardboard box, and BA could see it had already been opened. He was also relieved to see the box was completely plain; the company had promised discrete packaging, but you could never be sure.

“So, I got a delivery today,” Face started slowly, his voice calm and controlled as he took two steps forward and placed the box down on the coffee table, right on top of BA’s book. “Delivered straight to me in the office, no less.”

BA nodded, feeling his grin starting to falter slightly. “Okay, good…” So far things had gone according to plan. Face’d had to spend all week helping Hannibal catch up with his mountain of paperwork, complaining privately to BA that Hannibal had actually been in meetings nearly the entire time, leaving Face alone in the office.

Face folded his arms over his chest, the uniform shirt straining to contain his bulging biceps, and BA’s mouth watered even more. “It so happened that I was expecting a delivery,” Face continued, his tone still calm and sounding almost as if he was telling a bedtime story. “Some urgent files we needed. We’d been waiting for them for a while.”

“We?” And with that, BA’s smile fell away completely. He’d been counting on Face being alone when he got the delivery, but it sounded like – 

“Hannibal was with me.” Not so bad, BA thought initially; their Colonel would have a sense of humour about it. But Face wasn’t done. “Also General Morrison and his aide, and Major Jackson.” Shit.

BA gulped. Maybe it wasn’t so bad. “Face, please tell me they didn’t see.”

“Oh, yes, they saw everything. General Morrison was particularly amused by the King Kong dildo and the idea of the Strawberry Hot lube, but Hannibal couldn’t quite figure out exactly what to do with the leather harness.”

The room turned icy cold. “Face, shit, I – ”

“I’ve never been more embarrassed in my entire life.” For Face, that was truly saying something, and BA immediately jumped to his feet and stepped around the coffee table to place his hands on his lover’s tense shoulders. “What were you thinking?” Face asked plaintively, blue eyes flashing, voice still deceptively calm.

“Thought it’d brighten up your Friday afternoon,” BA replied honestly, thumbs massaging loose circles into Face’s collarbones, trying to work out if Face was genuinely angry or upset or just playing him. “Thought it’d give you something to look forward to, now we’ve both got the weekend off.”

“Most people send cupcakes, you do realise. Or flowers.” Face paused dramatically. “You chose to send me a box of sex toys you ordered online.”

BA pressed a quick kiss to Face’s lips, then nuzzled his lover’s cheek. “It seemed like a good idea after a few too many beers,” he admitted, and Face finally cracked a smile, unfolding his arms and sliding them around BA’s waist to tug him closer.

“If only there were some way you could possibly make it up to me,” Face drawled, and BA let himself be hauled into a fiery kiss, growling possessively. 

It was shaping up to be a good weekend after all.


	23. Failure (gen)

No matter how positive Face tried to be, and no matter how many hours he’d practiced for, it was hard to consider it as anything other than a complete and utter failure. 

He glared at his reflection in the mirror, shaking his head, and closed his mouth in defeat.

“Face?” It was Murdock, tapping gently on the bedroom door. “Can I come in?”

“Sure, buddy.” He straightened up immediately, squaring his shoulders, and grabbing a random bottle of lotion to give the impression of being busy.

Murdock appeared behind Face in the mirror, a curious look on his expressive features. “What are you doing?” Face waved the lotion vaguely in the air, but to his surprise Murdock snorted. “You only use that one first thing in the morning, and it’s nearly dinner time. So, what are you doing?”

Damn. It was possible Face’s team knew him just a little too well. 

If in doubt, go for distraction; the first rule of the con man. “You want to go play Mario Kart?” he asked, pushing away from the dressing table and making Murdock take a single step back. “You owe me a rematch, remember, after the tequila sessions last week.”

“Face, what were you doing?” Murdock was starting to sound concerned now, a slight frown hovering on his brow, and Face felt a twist of guilt in his gut. “Are you okay?”

“I was just…” Face sighed, gave up, and stuck out his tongue, trying and failing yet again, and feeling himself go nearly cross-eyed trying to see if this was the time when he finally managed to curl it.

To Murdock’s credit, he didn’t laugh at Face, though his mouth popped open in obvious surprise. “Face, you know practice won’t help, right? That being able to curl your tongue is something you can either do or not do? Something you’re born with.”

“I know, I know. But you three can all do it.” That sounded petty even to Face’s ears, and he felt his cheeks heat with a fierce blush. “I guess that’s one thing I know I’ve got from my parents, at least. Or rather, one thing I didn’t get.”

A brief flash of pity in Murdock’s eyes though mercifully it was immediately quashed. “You know that’s been disproved by science, right?” the pilot commented instead, head quirked to one side.

“Really?” Oh, slightly disappointing to Face’s surprise, but he always tried to look on the bright side. He took a deep breath, smiled for his friend, and lifted his chin. “Ah well, guess I’m just the special one in this team.”

Murdock slung a companiable arm over Face’s shoulders as they headed out of the bedroom together. “Facey baby, that isn’t news to us: we always knew you were the special one!”


	24. Rebirth (H/F)

The timing couldn’t be more perfect, and Face hummed happily to himself as he padded through the darkened house in just his socked feet. Hannibal was at a senior officers’ gala, while Murdock and BA were visiting Chicago for a few days, which left Face all alone for the night.

He needed this. Until Hannibal had kissed him goodbye and driven away, looking glorious in his full dress uniform, Face hadn’t realised just how much he’d needed this.

It was second nature for him to keep a cheerful, confident mask on at all times, though of course he was able to let that slip around his lover and in the safety of their team, but still it wore him thin after a while.

He hadn’t planned this, no. He’d actually intended to meet up with some of the guys in town for a few drinks, from the team he’d been working with at the range, but as soon as the door closed behind Hannibal he’d known what he really needed.

A quick text to the guys, sending his apologies, then he turned his phone off completely as he headed straight to the master bedroom. Plug in, taps on full blast, and a generous splosh of bubble bath; as soon as the scent of lavender and vanilla hit his nostrils, he felt some of the tension drain from his muscles.

Leaving the bath to fill, he detoured via the bedroom to change down into nothing but a loose pair of comfortable, well-worn flannel sleep pants, then slipped through to the kitchen. The house was silent apart from the barely-audible sound of running water, and it was dusk outside which cast long shadows throughout the rooms, though he didn’t feel the need to bother with turning on the lights or drawing the blinds.

He opened the fridge and helped himself to the bottle of white wine which was chilling there, intended for a special dinner with Hannibal tomorrow night. He’d replace it in the morning. He also grabbed a wine glass and a box of chocolate truffles, along with the corkscrew, and padded back upstairs with his arms full of bounty.

They had candles in the bathroom, only ever intended to be decorative, but he didn’t hesitate. As the bath finished filling, the bubbles almost overflowing and the water steaming beautifully, he quickly lit the candles and turned off the main light, sighing in surprised relief as the strain eased on his eyes, and the headache he hadn’t realised he was fighting started to fade.

Cork popped, wine poured, truffles opened. Only then did he slip out of his only remaining item of clothing and take his first step into the tub.

Oh, it was so good it nearly took his breath away. Almost too hot, he lowered himself in slowly, an inch at a time, feeling his entire body flush and beads of sweat break out along his hairline. Slowly, slowly, slowly, until finally he was all the way in, head cushioned on a rolled up towel.

The tub was built for Hannibal’s six-foot-four frame, so Face could stretch out completely, and he immediately did so. The heat was incredible, the bubbles soft, and the scent deeply soothing. Already he could feel all his tension and stress melting away, and a few sips of wine went straight to his head, leaving him pleasantly buzzed.

And he just floated, eyes half-closed as the candlelight flickered, and he didn’t think of anything at all except whether he wanted another sip of wine or another truffle.

This was what he’d needed. To relax, to reboot, to fully drop all his masks and shields and let his body just exist. Here, now, he was just Templeton Peck, not Face. This was almost a renewal, a rebirth, and he’d be better when he stepped out of the tub. Stronger, more solid. Though he didn’t need to get out anytime soon.

Time drifted along. He drank his wine, he ate all the truffles, and he refreshed the hot water three times. He pruned, beautifully of course, and for once he didn’t care.

He came back to himself eventually, tipsy from the now-empty bottle of wine, and had no idea what time it was. Time to get out, certainly, and Hannibal would probably be home soon, if he wasn’t already. This had been perfect, and he’d really needed every moment of it, but it had to end sometime.

Then, a soft tap on the bathroom door, which opened just enough to let a much-loved silver head peek inside. Hannibal smiled at him, and asked softly, “Fancy some company, sweetheart?”

And he smiled back, already shifting to make room in the tub. Now, it was really the perfect night.


	25. Breaking Away (M/F)

“Batman and Robin?”

“Nope.”

“Salt and Pepper?”

“No.”

“Calvin and Hobbes?”

“How would we even – no, just no.”

“Optimus Prime and Megatron?”

“What are we, twelve years old? No.”

“Woody and Buzz Lightyear?”

“Murdock, stop it, please.” Face had been trying his hardest to ignore Murdock’s increasingly outlandish suggestions, but it seemed his crazy partner’s ideas were never ending. “What is it with you and this obsession with matching costumes?”

“Not just matching costumes.” Murdock didn’t pause his bouncing around the living room, though he did slow down a fraction as he flashed Face a huge grin. “A couple’s costume!”

Face gave up trying to read his paper and leaned back in the chair, arms folded across his chest. Murdock was actually starting to make him feel dizzy already. “Okay, same question then: what it is with you and the idea of a couple’s costume?”

“It’s Halloween!”

“So?” Oh, well, that was the wrong answer, and Face knew it the moment the word slipped from his mouth.

Sure enough, Murdock slammed to a stop so hard that he toppled over with his own momentum, thankfully landing in the giant beanbag. “It’s Halloween, Face! That’s reason enough!” Murdock had rarely sounded quite so indignant, and Face felt a little bit bad. Only a little, though.

“I’m sorry, baby, really I am, but I just – ”

“We need to work out costumes for the party, and surely the main benefit of being in a couple is the fact that we can wear a couple’s costume!”

“The main benefit?” Okay, well now Face felt slightly indignant. “Do you seriously believe that’s the _main_ benefit to being in a couple?”

“Well – ”

“There’s nothing else important about being in a loving relationship than the opportunity to wear silly matching costumes once a year?” He managed to keep a straight face as he stared across the room at Murdock, who was also keeping a straight face and staring right back.

The silence held. This was one of the main reasons their relationship worked, Face knew: they were each as stubborn as the other. But he wasn’t going to be the first to give in this time.

Eventually, Murdock spoke, though he was still sprawled in the beanbag with legs akimbo. “So, what do you want to wear to the party, if you don’t want to be a couple?”

“Something special, but not something stupid.” Face had nothing against the idea of dressing up – the team had gone as the Avengers last year, with Murdock as Iron Man, Face as Captain America, BA as the Hulk, and Hannibal as Thor, complete with long blond wig. “And why does it have to be so cheesy?”

“Don’t you want to dress up with me?” Murdock was actually pouting now, a tactic he’d used to great success before, and Face wasn’t falling for it this time.

“No guilt trip, baby, that’s not fair.” But Murdock’s wobbly bottom lip was joined by tears building in wide eyes, and damn but that was Face’s weak spot. “Okay, okay, you win.” 

“Yay!” The tears disappeared instantly.

“But.” Face held up an insistent finger to silence his conniving lover. “We’ve got three weeks, so there’s no panic. We brainstorm ideas together. We avoid the predictable. Agreed?” Murdock nodded but Face pushed on. “This is our chance to make a mark on the cheesy world of couple’s costumes, by breaking away from the stereotypes and the cliches.” Hmm, actually Face was starting to think he could maybe get behind this idea. “Agreed?”

“Hell yeah!”


	26. Forever And A Day (BA/M + H/F)

I've chosen to post today's chapter separately (so I don't have to alter the warnings on this story) and under a new title (to avoid any confusion with my ongoing series 'Forever Changed'). Any interested readers can find this [over here as Closure](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24164632), a sequel to a story of mine from three years ago called 'Together'. 

Hope everyone is staying safe and well. Take care,

LB xx


	27. Lost And Found (H/F)

It had to be in the house somewhere. There was simply no way that Hannibal had taken it off the property with him, he wouldn’t have dared, so therefore logic said it had to be inside. He wouldn’t have even have taken it into the yard. He just had to find it.

If Face had any idea that Hannibal had even borrowed it, let alone mislaid it… Hannibal shuddered at the very thought of what his lover would do if he knew. Face could be an incredibly generous man, always willing to help out a friend or even a stranger, but there were some things that were precious to him. Some things where Hannibal knew he had to ask permission first.

The comb was one of those things. Hannibal had never quite understood why, not even when Face tried to explain it to him. Something about the perfect balance and the weight distribution, as well as the size and the shape of the teeth, and the fact it was hand crafted, and wouldn’t snag on Face’s unruly curls… 

You didn’t mess with any of Face’s grooming products, the whole team knew that, but especially not the comb. And Hannibal hadn’t meant to borrow it, but he’d been in a rush that morning, and his own comb had gone missing, and now he was screwed.

He’d turned the house inside out already, and he was running out of time before Face was due back. 

Maybe Face wouldn’t notice it was gone. Or maybe Face would think he’d mislaid it himself, rather than blaming Hannibal.

No chance.

Hannibal checked his pockets one last time, in the faint hope that the comb would have appeared there in the five minutes since he last checked, then had a brainwave. It was genius. And it would save him from another epic lecture on respecting personal property… 

Forty-five minutes later, he made it back inside the house just as he heard Face’s car pulling up outside. He dashed up the stairs, tearing the new comb out of the packaging as he went, and slid it carefully into the exact correct position in the bathroom cabinet, pausing to smooth his hair into place and catch his breath in the very same instant he heard his lover open the front door.

Safe. Hannibal was a genius, indeed.

It wasn’t until bedtime many hours later that his ‘genius’ plan fell apart around him. “John?” Face called from the bathroom, and Hannibal’s heart sank into his stomach immediately. “Is there something you want to tell me?”

“That I love you dearly?” he tried, and Face’s answering snort sent his heart through the floor. 

Face appeared in the bedroom doorway, waggling the damned comb in his fingertips, and wearing a deceptively calm look. “Try again.”

“Face, sweetheart – ”

“Did you think you could use my comb, lose it, then replace it with one from the lost and found without me even noticing?” 

Hannibal swallowed hard, squaring his shoulders, and nodded once. Time to be brave and own up. “I didn’t mean to do it,” he started. “I was rushing this morning and I grabbed yours by mistake, and I could’ve sworn I put it back but then I went to check this afternoon and it wasn’t there, and I couldn’t find it, and I knew it was important to you, and I remembered the brand so I dashed to the shop, and – ”

“Breathe, love.” Face suddenly looked like he was trying not to laugh; Hannibal was taken aback. “You’ll strain something if you’re not careful.” And Hannibal watched, confused, as Face reached into his back pocket to pull out The Comb. The Original Comb.

“How?” he breathed in relief, and Face did laugh at that, softly, as he crossed the room to sit by Hannibal.

“I had to pop back mid-morning for some paperwork, straightened up before I went and took it with me.” Face tried to look stern. “This still doesn’t excuse the fact that you used my comb. And that you weren’t going to tell me.”

“I know. But now you have two,” Hannibal pointed out. “Always better to have a spare.” Face narrowed his eyes, and Hannibal just knew he would still be in for the lecture, though hopefully he could convince Face to wait until the morning. “Come here. Let me make it up to you.”

And to Hannibal’s relief Face let himself be pulled into a tight embrace.


	28. Light (BA/F)

BA always prefers to make love with the light on.

For all the times when he and Face have to steal a few moments alone in a dark tent, or squirrelled away between buildings in a dark alley, hidden from dangerous eyes, BA always likes to make up for it as soon as they can.

He’s not an exhibitionist. He doesn’t want anyone else to see them, no, though he suspects his lover has more than a streak of exhibitionism running through his veins. He’s sure, if it were up to Face, that they’d make love in the middle of a packed stadium under spotlights, with the crowd cheering them on.

Not for him. BA just appreciates the chance to really see the man he loves, in all his glory, as they come together so intimately.

And it’s not just physical, though yes, of course, Face’s body is absolutely designed to be worshipped from every possible angle. Proportioned like a Greek god, long limbs and lean hips and broad shoulders, with slender neck supporting a gorgeous face, topped with the softest, fullest hair.

Those muscles are mouth-watering too, and BA knows just how hard Face works to maintain his physique. In the light, every dip and rise is starkly contrasted, the perpetual golden tan shining, and inviting BA to touch as Face writhes beneath him or above him in pleasure.

But it’s really not just the physical. BA knows Face’s body nearly as well as he knows his own now, and he can trace those biceps and pectorals and abdominals in his sleep.

It’s more, with the light on. It’s Face, letting himself go, dropping all his masks and shields. It’s Face, moaning when BA touches him with worshipping fingers, eyelids fluttering helplessly as his blue eyes darken. It’s Face, sighing through lips parted without care, when BA first slides a finger inside. It’s Face, twitching involuntarily from head to toe, when BA finally drives into him.

It’s Face.

It’s _seeing_ Face, that’s what BA needs, and that’s what he mises when they have to hide in the shadows during deployment. And it’s seeing the two of them together, BA’s dark hands caressing Face’s golden hips, or the contrast of their two different cocks side by side, Face’s longer but BA’s thicker.

It’s being able to stare into Face’s eyes when they climax, seeing the shine of tears over blue, and knowing that this is really love. They’ve come so far from their first times together, fucking each other rough and hard to ride out the adrenaline, friends with benefits and all that crap.

The best thing about having the light on? For BA, it’s the fact that he can turn it off when they’re finally sated, and they can sleep in each other’s arms all night with no fear.


	29. Dark (BA/F)

Face always prefers to make love in the dark.

It’s not a body image thing, hell no. He loves his body and he knows he’s fucking hot stuff – he works hard to look this good, and he’s more than happy to strip down anywhere at any time to show himself off. Shame is for other people.

And he already knows that the only man whose opinion actually matters is in love with the way he looks. Though Bosco would love him just the same without those looks, and that’s what makes this special, this thing between them.

Still, he’d rather have the lights turned firmly off when he and BA are finally able to be alone together. As much as he loves being able to see every glorious inch of BA in full light, things are so much more special in the shadows.

Not the shadows that mean they have to hide, no. The stolen moments they have to survive on when they’re on deployment, hidden in the corner of a tent or tucked out of sight in a filthy alley, well, no one would choose those, though they are better than nothing.

No, the shadows Face prefers are the ones that come when they are alone in their bedroom, safe from the world, when it’s just the two of them and no one else exists.

In the dark, everything is heightened. Every breath is a whisper, every whisper a shout, every rustle of sheets or blankets is an invitation. The slide of skin on skin is slick and lush.

Touch becomes everything, and Face knows he’s a sensualist. BA’s fingers, clever and deft and surprisingly soft for a mechanic, know exactly where to touch in order to ignite sparks and shivers throughout Face’s body, steady and sure even with no guiding light.

A stroke of BA’s warm palm down Face’s flank is enough to take his breath away, all the more intense and personal for being unseen and unexpected. For all the years they’ve been together, things are never, ever predictable between the sheets, and they are playful even as they are tender with each other, when time allows.

The first touch to Face’s cock, or the first brush of fingertips further back, is intensified by the darkness, and time seems to stretch on for infinity as they make love together. It’s intimate and private and overwhelming.

Face feels he can let himself go completely, no masks or shields, no watching eyes. Not that he keeps up his shields around his lover, no, but he still finds it a conscious decision to let go after a lifetime spent hiding.

In the dark he can be free, as BA takes him apart so skillfully and puts him back together again. In the dark no one sees if he tears up when he climaxes, though BA would never mock him for it.

But when they’re at home, safe in their bedroom with all the time in the world, they nearly always make love with the light on. Because Face knows that’s what his lover prefers, and Face just loves BA with all his heart.


	30. Faith (gen)

“What kind of priest would you’ve been?” Murdock asked softly, four beers in, slumped on the couch with his best friend after a bad day. “If you had gone down that road.”

A snorted, dismissive laugh before Face answered. “A bad one.”

Murdock turned to Face, curious. “No, seriously. What kind of priest do you think you would’ve been?”

A long pause, so long that Murdock thought Face wouldn’t give him any more of an answer. His friend’s features were carefully blank, though blue eyes flashed briefly, and Face’s shoulders tensed slightly under the scrutiny. Then, just when Murdock was about to change the topic, Face sighed and sat up a little straighter, blue eyes turning thoughtful as he nursed his own beer.

“Restless.” Another pause. “Distracted, I think.” A sigh, a shrug, and a whispered, “Selfish, definitely.”

“You’re not selfish, Face.” Face wore his heart on his sleeve at times, but more often he wore a mask, to become exactly what the other person needed him to be. It worked brilliantly for scams, of course, but it also made him an incredible friend, and a brilliant soldier. “You’re far from selfish, believe me.”

Face shrugged again. “We both know that’s not true, Murdock. I want what I want, and I do get what I want, eventually.” If Murdock hadn’t been watching closely he would’ve missed the way Face’s gaze flickered over to the closed door leading to Hannibal’s room.

“Is that a part of it too?” Murdock asked; they didn’t talk about this, usually. “What you want? Or rather, who you want?”

Startled blue eyes met Murdock’s for a split second, then Face laughed, though it was a bitter, twisted sound. “I never actually thought about it, buddy, not back then. Celibate means celibate, whether you’re gay, straight, or somewhere in between.”

Well, that was as close to an admission as Murdock had ever got, not that it mattered for even a second. “Still – ”

“No, that’s not why I would’ve been a bad priest.” Face sounded certain, sure of himself, and for once Murdock didn’t think it was an act. “It just wasn’t the right path for me, and I knew that, deep down. That’s why I signed up instead.”

“And met the boss.” Two days into basic training, Murdock knew, and Face nodded slowly, some of the tension draining from his shoulders.

“I don’t regret my decision, not for a minute. I am who I was always meant to be.”

Murdock was a bit surprised at his friend’s choice of words. “Does that mean you still believe? That you still keep the faith?”

“Murdock – ”

“Just curious, I guess. Seeing what we see and doing what we do, I know I don’t believe.” Murdock’s grandparents had been religious, but he’d never really believed even as a child. “You don’t have to answer. You can forget I asked.”

But Face drained his beer then started to speak. “Do I believe in the bible, word for word, as I was taught in Sunday school? No. And do I believe that there’s some grand plan for my life, that every decision I make is predestined? Not in a million years.”

It sounded like there was something more, and Face seemed willing to talk, so Murdock gently prompted, “Fair enough, but?”

“But do I believe there’s someone or something out there, somewhere, watching what we do with the life they created? Kicking back with whatever the cosmic equivalent of a bottle of Bud is, just watching?” Face took a deep breath, held it, let it out. “Yeah, I guess I still do.”

“Even with everything you’ve been through?”

Face nodded slowly. “My decisions and my life are my own, I know that for a fact, but that doesn’t mean there isn’t something bigger that created it all in the first place. This incredible planet, and this remarkable universe, and everything in it, warts and all. For good and for bad.”

“Wow.” It sounded kinda nice, the way Face said it.

“Well, you did ask.”

“I did. I didn’t think you’d answer, but thank you.”

“You’re welcome, I guess.”

“Face?”

“Yeah, buddy?”

Murdock leaned a little closer and dropped his head on Face’s shoulder for a second. “For what it’s worth, I’m really glad you didn’t become a priest.”

“Me too, Murdock. Me too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by a similar scene in the Lewis episode 'Wild Justice'.


	31. Colours (H/F)

Face found the look of sheer glee on Murdock’s features more than slightly terrifying, as his friend hovered too close, brandishing an entire fistful of different coloured Sharpie marker pens.

But, try as he might, Face knew he wouldn’t be able to keep his eyes open for much longer. Damn the painkillers he’d been forced to take. Damn all the painkillers.

“Murdock, buddy, you know I love you.” Face was surprised by just how slurred his words were. “Don’t do anything… stupid, okay?”

“Now why would I do anything stupid?” Murdock moved closer still, perching carefully on the coffee table right next to where Face lay stretched out on the sofa.

Face yawned, and blinked very heavily, the idea of sleep sounding very tempting if it wasn’t for the threat of the pilot and the pens. “This has to stay on for six weeks. Please, just don’t…”

From across the room, Hannibal smiled indulgently, watching them both. “Face, just get some rest,” their Colonel said. “I’ll supervise Murdock, I promise.”

Given the team’s recent history with Sharpies and unconscious teammates, that wasn’t really all that reassuring for Face, though there was sadly little he could do to resist now. He blinked once, then twice, then found he simply couldn’t open his eyes again.

“I’ll watch over you, sweetheart,” was the last thing he heard from Hannibal, followed immediately by a cackle of glee from Murdock.

Then nothing. For a very long time.

Face was warm when he woke, and comfortable, immediately aware that he was snuggled under the fleecy throw that usually lived in the den. There was a familiar hand stroking slowly through his hair, and he blinked open his eyes to see Hannibal above him, realising his head was cradled in his lover’s lap.

“Hi,” he croaked, and Hannibal smiled down at him.

“Well, hello there. Had a good nap?”

“Damn the painkillers,” Face grumbled, but without too much malice since he was warm and comfortable and blessedly pain-free. Then, a faint memory stirred. “Oh fuck, what did he do to me?”

Trapped momentarily beneath the blanket, Face couldn’t quite manage to free his right arm until Hannibal reached over to assist. “Relax,” his lover murmured. “I think you’ll be pleasantly surprised.”

Hannibal slipped a hand carefully into position and helped Face lift his arm into sight – oh, actually, it wasn’t too bad at all.

“Am I hallucinating?”

The heavy plaster cast wrapped from wrist to elbow had started life as an off-white colour. Murdock and his multi-coloured ink had certainly gone to town, but – “Told you I’d watch over you,” Hannibal laughed softly, trailing his fingers through Face’s hair again. “I think he did a good job, personally.”

All the colours of the rainbow! Red at the wrist, in a complete ring, then orange, yellow, green, shades of purple and finally blue by Face’s elbow – not an inch of white left visible. “It must’ve taken him hours,” Face marvelled. “How long was I asleep?”

“Hours.”

Well, ask a stupid question. Face still felt slow and sleepy, and only then did he realise that the artist in question was missing, presumably hiding. “Where is he?”

“He ran out of red.”

But there wasn’t an inch of white left visible on the cast. 

Oh no.

With a little more flailing, and a little less help from Hannibal, Face managed to free his left arm from beneath the blanket. The arm without the broken wrist. The arm without the plaster cast.

The arm with a nearly-complete rainbow coloured in very neatly on his bare skin.

“Huh.” Face blinked his eyes, but the matching rainbow didn’t disappear. He closed his eyes with a sigh and let Hannibal just pet him back to sleep. “Could’ve been worse…”


	32. Exploration (gen)

And here we see, in it’s natural habitat, a rare glimpse of a Colonel at rest. This special creature is, by it’s very nature, usually highly alert and has particularly sensitive hearing and eyesight. They can be found with different coloured plumage but this variety, as you can see in crystal clear detail as we step carefully closer, is a silver topped bird, and is a tall, fully grown adult male. The fact that it has chosen to create a temporary nest right here, on the sofa, rather than a more typical – 

“Murdock! I swear, if you wake him up you are going to regret it, get out of the living room!”

A more junior officer here, obviously incredibly protective of the Colonel and even more so over its nest. Observe the hands placed firmly on hips, and the glare on the face – this particular Lieutenant means business, and clearly isn’t afraid to get physical – ouch, hey, watch it Face, okay, okay, I’m out!

“Go pester BA, would you? And stop narrating everything: for the last time, you are not David Attenborough!”

The Lieutenant has spoken, it’s tones softened beyond earshot of the resting Colonel, yet it’s words are firm and underline the protective nature of this fine physical specimen, in fact a more perfect physical specimen has rarely been seen. But now, as we move carefully onwards through the rest of the house, we can observe the signs that indicate this is indeed, as we suspected, an all-male habitat. The lack of throw cushions and rugs, in particular, coupled with the distinctive scent – if only the technology existed to let you smell what I’m – hey!

“What are you doing, fool?”

Ah, the third member of this small tribe, summoned no doubt by the disturbed cries of the Lieutenant. This demonstrates why we must be so careful, as documentary makers, to remain detached and stay one step removed during all explorations, only observing the natural unfolding of events and resisting the urge to participate even when – 

“Put the damn camera down!”

Observe now, at extreme close-up, the flared nostrils and wide eyes that suggest extreme anger, alongside the raised volume when it speaks – 

“It? Who are you calling it?”

– And the beautiful display of bulging muscles, the fist forming so beautifully – 

“Last warning, crazy man!”

…Face, help me!


	33. Seeing Red (H/F)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tags updated to include Corsetry. Oh yes. Enjoy!

“Is it too much?” Face turns from side to side, teasingly, showing Hannibal a little more and preening like a peacock. “Or is it not my colour?”

Hannibal has to swallow twice before he can find the ability to speak, though blinking is still beyond him. “Definitely not too much. And definitely your colour.”

Red. Hannibal is seeing red.

Face smirks, one hand on his hip and one resting on his thigh, and now he turns in a full circle, slowly, steadily, sure-footed in the six-inch red stilettos he rarely wears. Hannibal has to gasp for breath, though Face is the one who should be breathless.

The red corset is simply stunning, wrapped tightly around Face from chest to hips, with delicate black lace highlights accentuating the curve of his waist and the hint of pink nipples just barely on display. Lower, and the matching red silk panties are a sight to behold, hugging Face’s perfectly toned ass and straining to contain his proudly hard cock, with the garter belt leading the eye further down still.

Stockings. Face is wearing stockings, a classy black pair with a hint of red lace at the top, hiding those incredibly long legs yet also putting them fully on display. Hannibal has never seen Face in stockings. He knows his mouth is gaping wide open, but he simply can’t close it, and all he can do is stare.

They’ve dabbled, on occasion. Hannibal knows Face loves wearing a corset, which is convenient as Hannibal loves lacing Face into a corset, and of course he knows about the high heels, but seeing the whole outfit put together… 

“What’ve I done to earn this?” Hannibal manages to gasp, still frozen in his armchair while Face spins slowly in the doorway.

“What makes you think this is for you?” Face throws back at him, though his voice is low and sultry, and he flutters his eyelashes in an exaggerated manner that is still one of the sexiest things Hannibal has ever seen. “Maybe I just felt like dressing up.” He pauses with his back to Hannibal, glancing over his shoulder and cocking one hip, all the glorious muscles in his back and legs flexed and on display.

Hannibal finds the feeling in his legs again, and lurches to his feet before staggering across the room, stopping a foot short of his gorgeous lover. Still open-mouthed, he looks Face over from top to toe then back to top, fingers itching to touch yet wanting to drag the moment out for as long as he can.

Face smiles at him again, softer now, and turns back slowly until they are face to face, inching closer. In his heels, Face towers over Hannibal, and it’s an unexpectedly erotic feeling to have to look upwards to see Face, close-shaven and wearing a nude lip gloss. 

Hannibal wants to kiss, wants to touch, but wants to wait too. “You’re beautiful,” he breathes, and Face’s smile grows wider still.

“You like it, then?” 

“I love it.” Hannibal reaches out at last, slowly, placing one hand on the corset-enhanced curve of Face’s waist, and stroking the other up into soft curls, surprisingly free of Face’s usual array of styling products. “I love you.”

“That’s convenient,” Face replies, leaning into Hannibal’s hands and swaying slightly as if dancing to unheard music. “Because I love you too.” He leans down as Hannibal stretches up and they share a tender kiss that sends lighting rocketing along Hannibal’s spine. 

It won’t stay soft and tender for long, though, and Face deserves a bed rather than the raggedy old couch behind Hannibal. “Shall we take this upstairs, sweetheart?”

But Face’s answer surprises him. “Not yet.” Face turns again, and Hannibal’s hands slip down onto narrow hips. “I’m not used to lacing myself in,” Face continues, and Hannibal’s mouth goes dry once again. “Do you think you could help me tighten everything up?”

Yes. Oh yes, Hannibal can certainly do that.


	34. Shades Of Grey (BA/M)

“Rocky slope,” BA whispered. “Cathedral. Campfire smoke. Gray plank. Chromium. Tarnished silver. Stone partition. Pewter. Silver lining. Lunar eclipse.”

Murdock was confused, to say the very least. “Um, Bosco, baby?”

“Railings. Elephant’s breath. Agreeable gray. Cheating heart. City shadow.” BA shifted slightly on the sofa, adjusting his grip on the book in his hands and rolling his neck slightly. “Sleigh bells. Silver half-dollar. Wish. Gravity.”

“Bosco?” The confusion was growing. Maybe Murdock was hearing things again. “What are you doing?”

“Fog, mushroom, cloudy, rhinoceros, mouse, pigeon, sidewalk.” BA turned a page, slowly and deliberately, then cleared his throat before continuing. “Squirrel, hippopotamus, sardine, Grandma, koala, charcoal, dolphin, shark, slate.”

“What am I missing?” 

“Granite dust,” BA said, as if that was the answer to every possible question Murdock might have. He glanced up, nodded, then looked back down at the book. “Ice cube silver. Gray owl. Silver satin. Found fossil.”

Oh, could it be – Murdock laughed out loud, gripping the arms of his chair and bouncing in the seat slightly. “I get it! I think I get it!”

BA lowered the book to his lap, keeping his place with a thumb, and finally met Murdock’s gaze, visibly trying to keep a straight face. “What is there to get? This is exactly what you asked me to do.”

“Fifty shades of grey!” Murdock crowed. “I asked you to read me Fifty Shades Of Grey, but you’re reading me fifty shades of grey!”

BA choked down a giggle. “Bowler hat,” he intoned solemnly. “Dove slate. Urban chic.” And with that he closed the book with a snap, placing it in his lap just in time to catch Murdock as he launched himself across the room at his lover.

“You tease,” Murdock said after a long, firm kiss. “I thought you agreed too easily!”

BA nodded, still smiling. “Yeah, the whole ‘reading out the porn’ thing is really not me,” he admitted, and Murdock just kissed him again. “I take it this was a decent substitute?”

“I love it when you’re silly! Now, the one question remains…”

“It does?”

“Exactly what shade of grey is Hannibal’s hair?”


	35. Forgotten (HBAMF)

Some days, BA regrets his role as the quiet man of the group. There’s the crazy one, and the loud one – though heaven knows those two fools are interchangeable – and then their leader, and that leaves him, the quiet, solid, dependable one.

Most of the time, he has absolutely no problem with that. He loves each of his crazy foursome for their individuality, and he loves watching them and being with them. It doesn’t mean that he can’t be the crazy one sometimes, or the loud one, or even the leader, when Hannibal needs a reality check.

But some days, days like today, it makes things difficult. Over the last few days, he’d been expecting one of them to bring it up, to ask what he wanted to do, or if he wanted any special present. It’s not often they’re at home in the States for a team birthday, so it could’ve been a big deal. But he has a nasty feeling they’ve forgotten him.

Murdock would’ve spent the last few weeks bouncing around, counting down to his Special Day, demanding to know what they were planning and if there would be a party and if they could have chocolate cake and what about a bouncy castle. Face, on the other hand, never trusts anyone to get the details right, so he always announces early on that he’s doing everything himself. Hannibal’s reached the age where he never wants to do much to celebrate, but the three younger men always get together and plan something simple to spoil the hell out of him. 

BA just never felt he could bring it up. And it isn’t a big deal, sure, it’s not a special ‘landmark’ birthday or anything. He’s a grown man and he doesn’t need a party or presents. Still, he’d thought one of his lovers would have remembered. Face is always good with stuff like that; he’d wished the barista in their local coffee shop a happy birthday only last week, much to her delight, and BA still can’t figure out how their resident con artist had known.

No one says anything when they wake up, tangled together in their huge bed, and sure the blow-job from Murdock had been absolutely perfect, but no one says anything. Breakfast passes as it does on any other day when they’re home and off duty, then they split naturally to do their own thing, Face to the range, Murdock down to his basement lair, and Hannibal to the yard where he’s trying and failing to cultivate a vegetable patch.

BA tries not to feel disappointed. When the mail comes, he’s got the most gorgeous card from his Mom, and she phones mid-morning to wish him a huge Happy Birthday, promising him his present is waiting at home in Chicago for when he next goes to visit. He gets messages from family and friends as the day goes by, and he chills out in his garage workshop, giving his van some love and then sipping a beer or two on the old sofa he keeps there, catching up on some magazines.

Murdock comes to join him mid-afternoon, bearing huge towering sandwiches, and they picnic right there in the garage, the double doors thrown up and wide to let the sun in, before BA gets dragged down to the basement – Bat Cave, Murdock always insists – to play a little X-Box. There’s worse ways to spend a birthday, but there’s still a nagging little voice at the back of BA’s head that wants to scream it from the rooftops. He has three lovers, each brilliant in their own way, and not one of them remembered?

Hours later, Face sticks his head down the stairs and hollers for them to get their asses up for dinner, slamming the door behind him with his typical drama queen flair, and by that point BA is resigned to his fate. It’s been a good day, even if it wasn’t the day he might have hoped for, and Hannibal had mentioned flinging some steaks on the grill earlier, so it’ll probably be a decent night too.

Murdock lets BA go up first, which is odd since he usually wants to be involved with any culinary adventures, but BA still doesn’t figure it out until he gets to the kitchen window and looks out into the yard. It doesn’t compute, for a long, long time, and he’s aware he’s standing there open-mouthed.

Bunting, and fairy lights, and tables piled high with food, and chairs and, most importantly, a huge crowd of BA’s friends from across the base. And his Mom, standing in the front holding a huge glass of wine, smiling widely and cheering right along with everyone as they all spot BA standing there. 

From behind, Murdock slides his arms around BA’s waist, squeezing gently just out of sight of their yard-full of party guests. A warm hand lands on his shoulder, and he turns slightly to see Hannibal standing there, smiling, then a third person lifts BA’s hand into his own and interlocks their fingers – Face, completing their team.

“You didn’t think we’d forgotten, did you?” Face says softly, but BA can’t reply, suddenly feeling oddly choked up. “Happy Birthday, Bosco.”


	36. Dreamer (H/F)

Face rarely remembers his dreams. Sometimes it takes him a while to fall asleep, and sometimes he’s out like a light the moment his head hits the pillows, but he nearly always awakens feeling as if no time at all has passed, miraculously rested yet dream-free.

He knows that’s not possible. He knows that everyone dreams, and therefore he must dream too, but he’s just not one of those people who keeps a dream journal – like Murdock, who loves nothing more than recounting every one of his nocturnal adventures in great detail at the breakfast table – or remembers random snippets – like BA, who dreamed of the colour red last night, apparently, though he had no memory of what had been red.

Even Hannibal will sometimes let things slip, from time to time, though Face always doubts his lover when he claims that some particular detail in a complicated plan just ‘came to him in a dream’.

The only time Face knows he dreams is when he’s not well, vivid fever dreams that stay with him and haunt him when he’s in that in-between phase of not-quite-awake and not-quite-asleep. Hannibal is usually by his side these days, of course, and Hannibal can chase away the shadows, though that hasn’t always been the case.

Face has a recurring fever dream that he’s had since he was a child, of having a big ball in his hands, a basketball or soccer ball maybe, and needing to bounce it and catch it again for some unknown reason.

If he doesn’t bounce the ball, then something bad will happen, something world-ending. But if he does bounce the ball, someone or something will wake up, and that will also be world-ending. 

He wakes in a panic every time, a strangled cry choking him and a strange weight on his lungs.

And these days Hannibal is right there, with soothing hands and whispered words of comfort, though when he was younger Face would have to lay there shivering in his dorm room, and it would take until the sun rose before he could calm himself.

He’s always wondered why he is the way he is. Why everyone else seems to remember their dreams, and why he doesn’t. It’s supposed to be the brain’s way of working through things, after all, so perhaps Face is just that brilliant and he doesn’t need that. 

It doesn’t stop him daydreaming, though, when it’s safe and he has a quiet moment alone. He daydreams of the future, of the life he and Hannibal might have together one day, in their own home. He daydreams of different lives they could have lead, of lives where they never met, or how they could have lived a century ago, or during the civil war, or Vietnam. 

Some of Face’s dreams have already come true – he’s with Hannibal, now, when that used to be nothing more than a daydream. Who cares if he never remembers what he dreams at night? He’s still a dreamer, after all.


	37. Mist (H/F)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Something a little different today, to say the very least. I might yet keep this and work on expanding it a bit further, though no promises - please do let me know if there's any interest.
> 
> Tags updated to include Fantasy and Dragons.

In the near silence, Hannibal waits patiently, expectantly. The sky is lightening rapidly now, though there’s no perfect red sky on the horizon, just a growing brightness as night transforms into day.

He breathes slowly. Deeply. The air is fresh and clear, if a little damp; it rained briefly during the night, though the forest was shelter enough for a man who has spent many nights in far worse conditions.

There is a faint breeze, and the sound of leaves rustling is all Hannibal can hear now. There were animals calling to each other earlier, and birds greeting the dawn, but now there is nothing.

It’s as if the whole forest is holding its breath, waiting. Just as Hannibal is. He’ll come soon.

Hannibal sits on his log at the very edge of the forest, looking out on the rolling hills, watching the morning mist shift and settle like a blanket over the landscape. It’s beautiful and awe-inspiring. It would be worth the two-day hike, even without…

Hannibal sighs, stretching his shoulders, all the movement he’ll allow himself. Soon, now, surely.

And then he hears it, though at first he fears it’s just wishful thinking. A louder rustling, more than just leaves, and the sound of rhythmic flapping. A faint growl reaches his ears, almost a roar, yet Hannibal isn’t scared.

He smiles, even as tears prickle at the backs of his eyes. He has to force himself to stay sitting still, waiting out the final few minutes until he can finally see him again, and there he is. Flying low over the hills, swooping through the mist, towards where Hannibal sits.

He’s beautiful. Graceful and elegant as always, the early morning sunlight dancing on his bright blue scales as those strong wings beat up and down, carrying the muscular bulk ever closer.

The long, slender tail is poised so perfectly, an effortless counterbalance to the body and the powerful head, with his delicate ears and elongated nose, sharp white horns standing proud.

So incredibly breath-taking, and Hannibal swallows hard as the dragon seems to almost float to the open patch of ground in front of his log, landing with little more than a soft thud as four heavy paws with lethal-looking talons touch down delicately.

The sapphire-blue dragon breathes hard for a moment, a cloud of steam flowing from his nostrils, and matching sapphire-blue eyes lock on to Hannibal’s immediately.

Recognition comes with a dainty lowering of that noble head, almost a bow, and only then does Hannibal push himself to standing, ignoring the ache in his thighs from sitting still too long in the damp. He’s not getting any younger, sadly.

He steps closer, then closer again, and the dragon just waits for him, wings fluttering a little before folding elegantly against his long spine.

Hannibal always forgets just how large the dragon is, towering at least another two feet tall above his own six foot four. The tail alone must be ten feet long, a deeper shade of blue on top where the scales are thicker – it’s enough to make Hannibal feel very, very small.

As if sensing Hannibal’s momentary fear, the dragon lowers his majestic head even further, turning towards Hannibal until his warm breath puffs into Hannibal’s face, earthy and musky, faintly smoky, and oddly reassuring. Familiar, still.

Hannibal reaches out and slowly rests his hand on the dragon’s nose, rubbing gently between those piercing blue eyes. The dragon huffs again, fluffing his wings up a little, and closes his eyes briefly as if in bliss. 

The tears do slip down Hannibal’s cheeks then, though at the same time he can’t stop smiling. If this is all they can have now, these stolen moments once a year, then he has to enjoy them.

He keeps his hand stroking gently over scales that are both smooth and rough, warm yet chilled, and dares to step closer still until he can rest his forehead against the dragon’s temple.

“I’ve missed you so much,” he whispers, his voice rough and choked, and the dragon leans into him a little in return, with a soft roar that shakes the trees behind them. Hannibal just laughs, pressing a kiss to those blue scales, and finally says, “Hello again, Face.”


	38. Burning (H/F)

“This is nice,” Murdock said, out of nowhere, and Hannibal found himself nodding in agreement as he saw Face and BA do exactly the same. “Sitting round a campfire. Just chilling.”

Sitting on Hannibal’s left, BA raised his nearly-empty beer bottle. “I’ll drink to that.”

Hannibal raised his own to meet the toast, though the four of them were too spread out to be able to ‘cheers’ properly. Murdock was barely visible to Hannibal sitting on the other side of the fire, which was maybe a little bigger than usual, still safely under control though, lighting all of them in a strange yet familiar orange glow that wiped out all the lines of stress and exhaustion on their faces.

It really was nice, Hannibal mused, sitting comfortably in his canvas chair with all his boys. They might well be in the FOB rather than in Hannibal’s backyard, right out on the front lines, and they’d been in danger yesterday, though they’d prevailed as they always did. Always would, if Hannibal had his way.

“There’s something special about a fire,” he found himself saying, staring into the dancing flames now, nearly hypnotised.

“Makes you forget a lot of things,” Face chimed in, though BA laughed a little.

“I think it’s the beer that helps with the forgetting, not the fire.”

As if waiting for that cue, Murdock produced another four bottles of beer out of nowhere, and started passing them round, something Hannibal approved of very much. “So, talking of fires,” their Captain started. “Have any of you ever done one of those cleansing rituals?”

For a moment Hannibal didn’t quite understand what Murdock was on about – not unusual, of course – though BA didn’t seem to have the same problem.

“You mean when you burn all the evidence after a relationship goes sour? The photos and the leftovers?” The big man took a long gulp from his beer before continuing. “Not me, but I had a buddy who did that once. He set his garage on fire.”

Face, sitting close on Hannibal’s right, nearly choked on his beer. “Shit, really? What the hell was he trying to burn?”

BA laughed again, the alcohol and the atmosphere relaxing him. “It wasn’t a case of what he tried to burn,” he explained. “More the fact that he used a whole can of gasoline and a pack of firelighters. Then lit it with a firecracker.”

Murdock nodded thoughtfully, his expression surprisingly serious, and Hannibal asked the obvious question. “How about you, Captain? Have you ever done a cleansing ritual?”

“Not for an ex. Had plenty of clear-outs though, had a bonfire and burned all my high school stuff before I moved out.”

Face had fallen unusually quiet. Hannibal risked a sideways glance at his lover and, though the flickering firelight cast shadows on Face’s downturned head, Hannibal thought he could sense a sudden tension in those broad shoulders he knew so well.

He found himself remembering the dark days after Sosa had left so suddenly. He remembered trying to coax Face into the shower, throwing out all the empty whiskey bottles, boxing up all the things she’d left behind so he could help Face begin to move on.

He remembered asking Face where those boxes had gone, weeks later, when Face was finally doing better. Face had just shrugged, said he’d taken care of it, and Hannibal had decided not to question further.

As if sensing the way Hannibal’s thoughts had turned, Face suddenly glanced over and met his gaze directly, his blue eyes turned golden by the burning mountain of wood before them. Hannibal smiled and Face smiled back, a sheepish little thing, then nodded once.

They needed a change of topic, clearly, so Hannibal announced loudly, “I think we need marshmallows.” He knocked back the last of his beer and stretched his arms over his head.

“Ooh, marshmallows!” Murdock sprang to his feet then immediately disappeared off into the camp, calling back over his shoulder, “Won’t be long!”

BA just laughed softly, settling back into his collapsing chair in a big, relaxed puddle of soldier. “Peace for five minutes! Nice one, boss.”

And Face just smiled again at Hannibal, raising his own bottle as if in thanks.


	39. Out Of Time (BA/F)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been trying hard to keep these light but I'm afraid this is more pure 'angst' than 'fluff and angst', sorry!

“Face, I wish I knew what to say.”

“You don’t have to say anything, Bosco. It’s just good that you’re here.”

The line was impressively clear, given that they were nearly a hundred miles apart and speaking over an ancient military radio that looked, from BA’s end at least, as if it had been repaired a million times and was hanging together by electrical tape.

“Five minutes,” a technician said softly, and BA clenched his jaw to stop himself screaming. This wasn’t fair.

“What was that?” Face asked over the radio, but BA didn’t want to answer. “Hey, come on. Play fair. No leaving me out of the conversation. Not now.”

BA swallowed hard, took a slow breath in through his mouth and released it through his nose. “It was the five-minute count,” he told his lover eventually, and Face made a noise that could’ve been a laugh or a sob.

“Any idea where the guys are?”

“About five minutes away.”

A definite laugh, then a cough, and BA remembered with a lurch that Face had reluctantly reported his suspected broken ribs after much nagging. He wished with all his heart that he was out there on the rescue mission too, pinned instead by his own broken ankle, and immediately followed that up by wishing he was alone with Face on the radio, rather than being in the very centre of the command tent surrounded by a dozen techs.

“Cutting it fine as always,” Face commented, sounding far too casual and composed for a man who had been captured, tortured, then chained up in a cave with a bomb he couldn’t reach before being left for dead. Thank God he’d still had with his comm link, a cruel yet helpful gift from his captors. “Hannibal always did like to sweep in at the last possible minute and make a scene.” 

“They’ll be there,” BA said helplessly, fighting his own sense of uselessness. He closed his eyes to try to block out the rest of the tent. “Face, just hold on a little longer. Don’t give up.”

“I’m not giving up, Bosco. I promise.”

With his eyes closed, Face sounded closer, somehow, as if he was whispering in BA’s ear. But the line was being monitored, of course, and recorded for posterity, so BA couldn’t say everything he wanted to say. Couldn’t say how much he needed Face to stay alive. Couldn’t say how much he needed Face, full stop. 

“Face, they’re coming,” he whispered.

“I know,” Face whispered back. “But I’m running out of time.”

BA shook his head, hard, screwing his eyes tighter shut still. “Don’t say that.”

“I have to be realistic.” Face coughed again, then cleared his throat. “If this is my last three minutes and thirty seconds on Earth – ”

“Don’t say that.”

“ – Then I’m not going to waste them.” Face kept right on talking, ignoring BA’s half-hearted protest. “Bosco, I’m glad it’s you here with me.”

“Face… I’m glad I’m here too. But this isn’t the end. They’re right outside now, the rescue team.”

“I can hear them, I think.”

Someone touched BA’s shoulder, whispered, “Two minutes, sir.”

Not enough time. Not long enough to get into the cave and to either dismantle the bomb or somehow free Face and get far away enough for them all to survive the blast. BA could hear frantic discussion in the tent around him, a cacophony of voices debating whether to give the ‘abort’ order. If Hannibal, Murdock and the rest of their temporary team were caught immediately outside the cave when the bomb went off, would they survive? 

BA didn’t, couldn’t, wouldn’t focus on that. He knew Hannibal wouldn’t pull back even if the order was given. Hannibal wouldn’t leave Face there alone. Neither would BA.

All he could do was focus on Face. No way to say everything he wanted to, though, not here and now. “Not long, Face,” BA said instead, dropping his head forward to the table and resting his forehead on his fists. “Hannibal is there now.”

“They should get out of here,” Face said, just as someone in the tent announced, “Sixty seconds.”

“Stay with me, Face.” It was all BA could say. It wasn’t enough. It wasn’t ‘I love you’ or ‘thank you’ or ‘you bastard, you promised you wouldn’t leave me’. But Face, being Face, seemed to understand.

“I want to, Bosco.”

Thirty seconds, BA thought to himself, though there would be no more countdowns. What could he possibly say to Face? Goodbye was unthinkable. Yet, perhaps…

“Face – ” BA started, but suddenly the line was filled with static, a high-pitched whine cutting straight through him, and he tore the earphones from his head with a roar, head snapping up and eyes finally opening. “What happened?” he shouted, though the room was swirling around him in action, everyone knowing their role and no one having time or a job for him. “Did it blow early? Did they get him?”

No one answered. No one even glanced in his direction, and BA lurched awkwardly to his feet in panic, the heavy cast around his right ankle keeping him in his place. There were soldiers talking into radios and soldiers pointing at maps, soldiers walking at a fast pace holding papers and other soldiers standing just like him, waiting, watching, though none of them caring as much as BA did.

Thirty seconds was long gone. If the bomb hadn’t blown early, then it had certainly blown now.

BA lifted the earphones back to his head; still nothing, not even static now. His heart was racing, pounding so hard that he could feel it vibrating against his ribs. If Face was gone… If Hannibal and Murdock and the whole rescue team were gone…

The thought was simply unbearable.

“Will someone please tell me what’s happening?” he roared, unable to restrain himself for even a second more.

Another thirty seconds, with no one looking at him, but then a technician peeled away from a group on the far side of the tent and headed towards BA, holding out a radio handset wordlessly.

BA took it with trembling hands, raised it to his mouth. “Who is this?” 

A crackle of static, then, “BA? It’s Hannibal. We’ve got him.”


	40. Knowing How (H/M)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tags updated to include Hannibal/Murdock.

Murdock was starting to regret asking for Hannibal’s help, even though he certainly needed it. He was already feeling caged in and claustrophobic, too warm and breathless, and that was before Hannibal had even started on the bow tie.

“You know what?” he said, swallowing nervously and shifting from foot to foot. “I’m sure I’ve got a ready-made one on elastic somewhere. You don’t really need to – ”

“Nonsense.” As always, just one word from Hannibal calmed Murdock instantly, and he found himself relaxing a fraction.

“But you don’t have to.”

In the mirror, Murdock could see Hannibal smiling gently, towering nearly a whole head over him yet somehow not using his height to intimidate. “You’re welcome to ask Face if you’d prefer,” the Colonel suggested. “I won’t be offended.”

Murdock considered it for all of two seconds, then shook his head, remembering all the reasons why he’d not gone to his best friend for help with the bow tie in the first place. “I’d rather you do it, boss,” he said eventually, and Hannibal stepped a fraction closer. “Face’d be unbearable over something like this. He’d tease me.”

Murdock was stood facing the full-length mirror in Hannibal’s bedroom, with the colonel standing close behind him, long arms reaching around to hold the ends of the tie and effectively caging Murdock in.

“I’m sure he wouldn’t tease you. In fact,” Hannibal’s voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper. “He didn’t have a clue how to tie a real bow tie like this until I taught him, years ago now.”

“Really?” Murdock was surprised, and he relaxed a fraction further, feeling slightly less stupid.

“Really.” Hannibal paused, cocked one eyebrow. “Would you like me to teach you? Or do you just want me to get it done?”

“Just get it done, please. But… maybe you could teach me some other time? When I stand a chance of concentrating and remembering.”

Hannibal laughed softly at that, a deep rumble in his chest that Murdock could swear he felt through his back, as close together as they were.

“Any time,” Hannibal told him, bright blue eyes seeming to stare deep into Murdock’s in the mirror, though of course he was obviously focussing on the bow tie as his fingers started to move in utterly incomprehensible ways. “This isn’t one of those skills we’re born with, not even Face. It’s a skill that needs to be learned, practiced. A matter of knowing how it’s done.”

“Who taught you?” Murdock asked, curious, watching in amazement as the weirdly shaped black tie started to form into a recognisable bow. 

Hannibal paused, frowned, and Murdock worried that he’d caused some offence before Hannibal suddenly unpicked the tie with deft fingers and started again. “Wonky,” Hannibal explained apologetically. “It’s tricky doing this on someone else.”

“That’s okay.” Murdock found he was quite comfortable there now, safe in Hannibal’s arms, and took a deep breath of Hannibal’s spicy cologne.

“My Uncle taught me, in the end. My Dad did try, but I was impatient and he got a bit frustrated with me when I got frustrated with myself. My Uncle was a far more patient man than both of us.”

Murdock smiled into the mirror as Hannibal finished up, tweaking the corners and somehow producing a perfectly tied bow tie. “Like magic! Thank you,” he told his Colonel, and Hannibal smiled back, staying close behind him and resting his hands on Murdock’s shoulders.

“You look very good, Murdock. Full black tie suits you.”

Murdock felt himself blushing, then saw it in the mirror as his cheeks turned pink. Hannibal obviously saw it too and smiled again, though thankfully he said nothing, squeezing Murdock’s shoulders once before smoothing down the sleeves of the black dinner jacket.

“Thanks,” Murdock whispered again, and Hannibal finally stepped away, leaving Murdock feeling suddenly chilled as the wall of heat moved away.

“Have a good night, Captain.”


	41. Fork In The Road (H/F)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This isn't what it might seem - please remember that no archive warnings apply to this prompt collection, and do see the end notes if you'd like a bit more detail.

It was a foolish yet, hopefully, not a critical mistake. Hannibal had been chained and beaten in that warehouse for quite a while, biding his time before the perfect moment to escape so he could meet up with Face and take out Tuco, and he hadn’t had any water or food for too long. He wasn’t at his best, but when had that ever stopped him before? 

In the blistering heat of a Mexican summer, was it any wonder he turned left when he should’ve turned right?

It couldn’t have cost him more than five minutes, in the end, then he was back on the right path and finally he picked up the tracker than would lead him to Face. His lack of transport was definitely going to be an issue, though; he could just about see a black van disappearing off into the distance in a cloud of dust, too far to flag down or catch.

Damn. A ‘lift’ would’ve been helpful.

When he finally did find another vehicle, the driver running screaming as soon as Hannibal had stuck his gun in the driver’s window, Face’s radio link was dipping in and out.

Hannibal still didn’t let himself give up hope, though. Not when Face’s signal went ominously silent. Not when he could see the plume of smoke rising straight into the sky, no wind to disturb it. Not when he got close enough to see the tyre tracks heading off to the east, suggesting Tuco’s escape. There was a good chance Tuco had taken Face with him, after all.

He still clung on to some faint hope, even when he reached the burnt-out remains of Tuco’s corral. The gallows, the tyres…

He didn’t cry. Couldn’t cry, not there, not then. Not even when he found Face’s dog tags.

* * *

Hannibal lurches upright in bed, choking on a scream, flinging the blankets away as if they were on fire.

“Easy, John.” Face is right there, of course, in the bed right by his side, and he pulls Hannibal into his arms, still clearly half-asleep yet all too aware of the power of nightmares. “I’ve got you. You’re safe. You’re in our bedroom.”

“Face, thank goodness.” Hannibal hauls his lover into the tightest embrace he can manage, given how much his arms are shaking. His whole body is shaking, in fact, adrenaline flooding his system with nowhere to go.

Face rocks him very gently, letting himself be crushed, and peppers Hannibal’s neck with tiny kisses, the only place he can reach give how he’s being held. “What was your dream?” he asks softly, when the worst of Hannibal’s trembling has eased. “Do you remember anything?”

“Mexico,” Hannibal breathes, finding the strength to shift them both to rest against the headboard, hauling Face along with him until he has his lover tucked tightly against his side. “I got turned around when I escaped the dogs, and I missed the chance to get to BA and his van, so by the time I got to you…”

He chokes up again even at the fading memory of the burnt body he’d found in his dream, but Face understands. Of course Face understands.

“You dreamed that Tuco killed me,” Face whispers, and Hannibal shudders, nods, though he knows Face won’t see that in the shadows of their room.

“You were dead, and BA got sucked into working with the cartels, and we never went to rescue Murdock.” Saying it all out loud brings it home, somehow, just how close it really had been in Mexico, all those years ago.

Face squirms a little in Hannibal’s arms, until he manages to rest one warm hand over Hannibal’s heart and tuck his head just so under Hannibal’s chin.

“Five minutes,” Face says, sounding amazed at the thought. “If you’d taken the wrong fork in the road, we’d never be where we are today.”

Hannibal is feeling calmer now, the longer they lie there together, and he manages a truly deep breath, pressing a lingering kiss to the crown of Face’s head. “But here we are, after all.”

Five minutes, and their lives could’ve been so different, all scattered to the winds or even dead. But they shouldn’t dwell on that, not when they survived, and they’ve got the rest of their lives to live.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hannibal has a nightmare about what might have happened if he'd been too late to save Face at the beginning of the movie. No graphic details.


	42. Start (BA/F)

BA could see Face was struggling, and he longed to make things easier for his partner, though there was nothing he could do but support Face in whatever way he might need.

“Why is this so difficult?” Face suddenly said, pen still poised over the final page of the mountain of forms he’d worked through slowly. “One last signature and then it’s done. So why can’t I…?”

Face tailed off, shook his head slowly, and BA’s heart hurt for the man he loved. “You don’t have to do it right now,” he said, not for the first time, and Face’s bright blue eyes snapped over to stare at him questioningly. “You could wait, if you want. They don’t need them back ‘til tomorrow. Wait, if you need more time.”

_If you’ve changed your mind_ , he didn’t quite say, though Face obviously heard the thought anyway.

“This is the right decision for me. And for us.” Face smiled, the slightly lop-sided smile that had become so familiar now, though the smile didn’t quite reach his eyes. “The right decision for me, most importantly.”

“You’re the only one who can decide.” And BA meant every word, with all his heart and soul. This could only be Face’s choice.

“I don’t want a desk job.” Face stared back down at the form, renewing his grip on the pen. “And I’ll never be fit for active duty again.”

That had been a bitter pill to swallow, for all of them, and BA couldn’t help but glance down at his lover’s left arm, now permanently paralysed and resting in a sling across his chest. Couldn’t help but glance at the left side of Face’s head, where the scars from several surgeries were now hidden in the regrown curls.

“You’re incredible,” he said softly, and Face blushed, though he didn’t look up from the paperwork. “You kept fighting when anyone else would’ve given up.”

“Isn’t that what I’m doing now? Giving up?”

“No, the complete opposite.” They’d talked about this over and over during the long months since Face had collapsed suddenly during a standard training run. It had been an aneurysm, of all things, and he’d fought hard to survive and battle his way back to fitness. But Face was Face, staying positive throughout, and celebrating each small victory along the way with his team by his side; now, he was as fit as he would ever be, and he’d been left with a useless left arm and weakness down his left side, along with suffering occasional seizures.

Face sighed. “I guess I just never thought I’d be the one retiring first. Should be the old man, surely?”

The old man in question, Hannibal, was hovering somewhere close by with Murdock, BA knew, both of them understanding the significance of the folder of paperwork Face had received that morning. Even though this was Face’s decision, it impacted on all of them, and they’d spoken about it over and over.

Murdock had been devastated, of course, and Hannibal had tried his hardest to convince Face to stay in the service after all, knowing that there were options there, even with Face’s new physical challenges. But BA had always known what Face would choose. Face wanted a new challenge, a complete change of lifestyle, though thankfully he still wanted BA in his life, which was all BA truly cared about.

“Face,” BA started, then stopped, shook his head. “Temp, if you want to wait, to think, to talk – ”

“I’ve done so much waiting and thinking and taking, I’m sick of it. This is absolutely the right thing. But this one last signature…”

“Makes it final.”

“Yes. Means it’s really all over.”

BA felt emotion choking him, and he swallowed hard, wanting desperately to be strong for Face. “Don’t think about this as an ending,” he suggested, and Face cocked his head to one side, as if intrigued. “Think about it as the start of something great.”

“The next chapter,” Face breathed, nodding to himself, smiling again.

“Civilian life. All those things you’ve always wanted to try but never could.” All the little things: tending a garden, having a dog, being a regular in a local coffee shop. BA had to admit, it all sounded tempting, and perhaps he’d follow Face soon, though it was too early to talk about that just yet.

“And I’ll be waiting here for when you come home to me.” Face’s gaze flickered up to meet BA’s quickly. “Though I’m no one’s house husband, understood?”

“Understood.”

And BA watched as Face finally touched pen to paper, signing the final signature with a flourish, ending his Army career and beginning the rest of his life.


	43. Nature's Fury (BA/M)

The storm came out of nothing, catching them exposed and unprepared, in the middle of nowhere. The skies darkened as the winds picked up to gale force, and even BA found he was struggling to stay on his feet as he grabbed Murdock by the collar.

“Head for shelter,” he shouted, trying to make his voice heard over the screaming wind, as the first heavy raindrops fell from the sky like tiny bullets.

He wasn’t sure if Murdock had heard him, but they both started running in the same direction at least, which was the main thing. It was difficult to judge how far the small patch of woodland was as day darkened rapidly to night, but any cover had to be better than staying so exposed in the middle of the fields.

The rain grew so hard and heavy that it felt more like hail stones, and for all BA knew it was exactly that, and the two of them were soon soaked to the skin and shivering. If they’d been expecting it they might have been fine, but this certainly hadn’t been forecast, and both of them were only in jeans and thin t shirts.

They needed to get to shelter until this passed over, and BA kept his hand tangled tight in Murdock’s collar even though the other man easily kept pace with him as they ran.

The trees looked to be only a few hundred metres away when the first rumble of thunder tore through the sky, and BA instinctively hauled Murdock to a stop, both of them sliding a little in the puddles that had formed on the previously dry ground. If there was thunder then there would be lightning, and if there was lightning then heading for the trees was no longer a safe plan, but they couldn’t stay in the open either.

Murdock was trying to shout something, his words lost in the howling winds, and in the next second the whole sky lit up with a flash of lightning.

BA had seen a lot of stunning sights during his travels with the Rangers, but he’d never seen anything quite like the lightning storm that flashed over their heads, nor had he ever felt so small and powerless. It wasn’t a feeling he liked, not in any way.

For a second he stood, staring up through the rain stinging his skin and shivering in the wind, until strong hands grabbed his arm and started pulling him sideways. Murdock, naturally – a Texas-born fam boy, far more used to this than city-boy BA.

So BA went with it, forcing his feet to keep up as Murdock guided them, until they suddenly stopped again and Murdock tugged him downwards. BA ended up crouching in a shallow dip, not really sheltered, but hopefully they’d be safe from the storm and, most importantly, from the lightning. 

They crouched there side by side, huddled with head’s together and arms round each other’s shoulders, while the world raged around them and the rain fell and the lightning lit up the sky.

Finally it started to ease, the thunder fading in intensity and the wind starting to slow, the lightning a distant memory and the rain becoming little more than a shower. BA was chilled to the bone and frozen in place yet thoroughly relieved they were both safe, but Murdock, to his surprise, pressed a quick kiss to his forehead before bouncing to his feet and stepping away from their little dip in the ground.

BA could only watch his crazy baby as Murdock raised his arms to the sky, clearly reveling in Mother Nature’s fury, letting the rain pour over him and obviously laughing with joy, a sound BA could just about hear now the worst of the storm had softened.

And Murdock spun, and danced, and capered around while BA watched. “Come join me,” he hollered, shaggy hair hanging sopping wet around his face as he beckoned to BA. “Come dance, we’re safe now!”

Well, why not? BA figured no one would ever know, and let himself be pulled to his feet.


	44. At Peace (BA/F)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Back in 2012, a wonderful writer named Delorita wrote a short yet beautiful fill for a BA/F prompt of mine, and titled it [At Peace ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/440995). When I spotted today's prompt, I knew what I had to write! Thanks for the inspiration, Del, hope you're keeping well!  
> LB x

BA’s weight was heavy on Face’s chest, but Face wouldn’t have moved for all the money in the world, not now his lover was finally asleep and at peace.

It had been a long difficult few days, and there had been times when even Face’s endless confidence had faltered, but BA had defied all the odds and was home from the hospital now, still slow and weak and hurting, but home and healing at last.

Face tightened his careful grip around BA’s waist, smiling at the throaty moan that slipped from his lover’s lips as BA shifted a fraction closer in his sleep. His head was resting under Face’s chin, and Face had a niggling suspicion that the dampness he could feel on his t-shirt was drool.

In the darkness of the room, the stark white of bandages against BA’s dark skin could no longer be seen, though Face was all too aware of their presence. Bruises and cuts and burns… No, he decided he wouldn’t think of it now.

Hannibal and Murdock hadn’t even batted an eye when Face had announced he’d stay with BA for the night, ‘just in case’. Face smiled into the darkness at the memory of Hannibal helping a groggy BA settle into the bed by Face’s side, propped on pillows, and he wondered just how much their teammates had already figured out about their relationship.

It was still new, but it was good. This… _incident_ had certainly been something of a wake-up call for Face, forcing him to realise just how much he really cared. 

He pressed his lips gently to the crown of his lover’s head, feeling the softness of the familiar mohawk. He could feel BA’s chest rising and falling reassuringly against his own, and could feel the steady beat of that strong heart keeping time, and he sighed softly in surprised contentment.

Circumstances were far from ideal, but Face found he was happy, for possibly the first time in a very long while. He’d be happier still when BA was fully recovered, but for now?

For now, a damp patch of drool on his t-shirt was a small price to pay for happiness.


	45. Heart Song (H/F)

Hannibal had to fight down his instinct to panic when Face slipped off his shirt. He knew what this was, and Face had explained it to him slowly and carefully, obviously anticipating panic, but still…

“You’re sure there’s nothing more to it?” he asked hesitantly, reaching out to hover tentative fingers over the sensors and wires attached to his lover’s chest. “You’re not keeping anything from me?”

Face smiled, his muscular chest rising and falling steadily as he breathed in and out, allowing Hannibal to look his fill. “I’m not hiding anything,” he said reassuringly. “I told you the whole truth, I promise. It’s just for a study, and they were looking for volunteers to wear this for a couple of days.”

Hannibal couldn’t quite bring himself to touch for fear of disturbing something. “It’s… a lot,” he managed eventually, stepping back and pulling his hand away.

A simple portable heart monitor, nothing more. Sensors on Face’s chest, over his heart and collarbones and sternum, and a small box on a black belt around his waist. A few thin wires and nothing else but…

He couldn’t tear his eyes away. “It’s really quite a lot,” he found himself saying again, and Face’s smile faded to a light frown.

“It’s only for two days. They want to monitor me, and others, during normal training and everyday activities.” Face reached out to catch Hannibal’s hand, pulling him a step closer once again. “That’s all, I promise. I’m supposed to carry on as usual, and keep a simple diary of what I get up to.”

Still, Hannibal was struggling. “You’ve had these before,” he murmured. “Heart monitors, I mean. When you’ve been hurt or sick.”

Unpleasant memories of Face lying in a hospital bed, wires attached and monitors beeping a steady, or not-so-steady, rhythm. It was a little overwhelming.

Face swore softly under his breath. “I didn’t think. But I’m fine, John, I promise. It’s two days, and I can take it off to shower, but other than that – I could keep my shirt on, if that makes it easier?”

Hannibal shook his head, and finally touched his fingers to the small black box on the belt around his lover’s narrow waist. “And this records everything?”

“Absolutely everything.” Face’s hand closed gently over Hannibal’s keeping him close, and Hannibal felt his own racing heart start to calm. His gorgeous lover was right there with him, half-naked, tanned and toned and very tempting. “Every beat, and every skipped beat.”

“And you’re supposed to carry on as normal, yes?” Hannibal quirked a smile, and Face laughed softly, immediately understanding him.

“Oh yes, exactly as normal.”

“And then you keep a diary?”

“Just a loose, vague diary.”

And Hannibal surged forwards to kiss Face firmly on the lips, sliding his hands around Face’s hips to haul him closer. “That’ll give them something to puzzle over,” he smirked when they eventually broke apart, Face a gasping, shivering wreck in his arms. 

“Definitely,” Face managed eventually, and Hannibal had to kiss him again for that

But there was something missing, strangely. When Face was injured and wired up to a heart monitor, there was always the steady, reassuring beep marking every single beat. The silence felt oddly strange.

“I wish I could hear it,” he said, and Face tilted his head to one side curiously, eyes already dark with arousal. “The beat, I mean. The rhythm. Your heart song.”

He wondered if he’d gone too far, but Face practically melted into his arms at his last words. “I’ll get you a recording, or a print-out, or something,” he whispered, before surging up for another kiss, and another, and another, and Hannibal stopped thinking about the heart monitor completely.


	46. Perfection (M/F)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A teeny tiny bit of angst has crept in again today I'm afraid.
> 
> TW for discussions of body dysmorphia.
> 
> See end notes for more details.  
> LBx

Face tapped tentatively on the bathroom door. “Murdock? You okay in there?”

The sound of shuffling, a muffled thud, then, “Fine, Face. I’ll be out soon.”

“You’ve been in there for nearly an hour. That’s a long time, even by my standards.” The shower had been on earlier for all of about five minutes, then there had just been a slightly ominous silence that had Face growing increasingly more concerned. Murdock had been quiet all morning but Face hadn’t though anything of it.

“Open the door for a second, baby?” he asked, hand resting on the handle but not quite turning it just yet. “Let me see you?”

More shuffling then, to Face’s great relief, the door swung open a few inches to reveal Murdock’s slightly sheepish face.

“I’m okay, see?”

Face leaned in just close enough to see if he could steal a quick kiss, and when Murdock actually kissed him first he relaxed a little, though he could tell something still wasn’t quite right.

“The sofa’s getting cold without you,” Face said quietly when they pulled apart, fully prepared to leave his partner alone for however much longer he might need, but Murdock surprised him by opening the door even further and stepping back, inviting Face in with a small wave.

Face immediately took a quick look around the bathroom, but there were no obvious clues to what Murdock might have been up to. A damp towel on the floor. A bottle of body lotion by the sink.

“I was just having a moment,” Murdock suddenly said. “A long moment, I guess. I was looking in the mirror, and I got a bit lost.”

“Lost how?” Face asked carefully, moving in behind his lover as Murdock stepped back in front of the sink, the mirror above it reflecting them both. He was tempted to make some faintly cheesy comment about being lost in those gorgeous eyes but sensed it wasn’t quite the time.

Murdock sighed. “Do you ever look at yourself and just think… whatever I do, it isn’t enough?”

Uh-oh. This sounded deep, and Face took a steadying breath as he slipped his hands around his lover’s waist. “In what way?”

Murdock snorted softly. “Look at you. Of course you don’t ever feel like that. You’ve got those muscles, and that jawline, and the hair, and the tan…”

“We’re talking about our bodies?” Murdock nodded, and Face suddenly felt incredibly underprepared for this conversation. They didn’t talk about stuff like this. “I don’t always like what I see in the mirror, baby, I thought you knew that.”

“Really?” 

“Really. Sometimes all I see are imperfections.” This was hard to talk about, but Face could feel Murdock almost trembling in his arms, so he steeled himself and pushed on. “I see the weight I need to lose, even though I know there’s nothing there. I see the hours I need to put in at the gym. I see my big ears and my huge nose, and sometimes it’s all too much.”

“But you’re gorgeous,” Murdock whispered, and Face leaned down to kiss him gently on the cheek.

“I think you’re gorgeous,” he replied. “But what are you seeing in the mirror today?”

It was obviously the right question, as Murdock immediately said, “I’m skinny, and I haven’t got big muscles, and my hair is a real mess no matter what I do, and I’m so short compared with all of you, and I’m just never going to be enough because I can’t put on weight, and I never get bigger muscles no matter how much I work out, and I could shave my head I suppose, but I can’t grow any taller – ” 

“Breathe, baby, breathe.”

Murdock obeyed, closing his eyes tightly and shaking his head once. “I just want to look in the mirror and see perfection.”

“Perfection?”

“You think that’s too much to ask?”

Yes, Face thought, though he didn’t say it out loud. “I don’t think anyone is ever one hundred percent happy with their body and the way they look,” he said carefully instead. “No matter what some women might say. I think we have to find a way to be happy with what we have, focus on all the good bits, and find someone who loves us just the way we are.”

“Do you love me just the way I am?” Murdock asked, opening one eye and squinting at Face in the mirror.

“I do, baby, I really do.”

“That’s nice, then.” Murdock smiled at last, opening the other eye and leaning back into Face’s embrace. “And I love you just the way you are too. And your ears and nose are not too big.”

Face squeezed his lover tightly. “And you are not skinny, you’re slender. And I love your wacky hair, so don’t you dare shave it off!”

“I won’t, I promise!” With that, Murdock suddenly pulled out of Face’s arms and headed out of the bathroom, crisis obviously over, for now at least. “Come on, I thought we were going to watch a movie?”

“I’ll be right behind you.” Face took a moment to stare at his own reflection, seeing again the nose he hated and reaching up to style his hair over his ears. Then, with a sigh and a shake of his head, he brushed his hair back into place and squared his shoulders, pulling on a smile. Focus on the good bits, he reminded himself, and damn he had a lot of good bits, even if he did say so himself. And with that, he followed his lover out and back to the real world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Murdock and Face discuss the doubts they sometimes have over their body image - hints of body dysmorphia.


	47. Everyday Magic (H/F)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another angsty one, sorry. I really am trying to keep these light and fluffy but the real world has been intruding into my head a little more over the last few days. I'm writing a couple of days ahead of where I'm posting (sticking to one per day!) and I can promise that tomorrow's offering will definitely be completely angst-free.
> 
> LBx

It felt a little wrong just to be there, like pins and needles in his extremities, or like the tingle on the back of his neck when someone was watching him. Not that Hannibal believed anyone was watching him. 

At least, that’s what he kept right on telling himself.

“I hope I’m not causing any offence by being here,” he said softly. “I know I’ve done a lot of questionable things in my life, and I’m not a religious man, but I figure this room gets a lot of visitors like me.”

The room in question was carefully bland and non-denominational, with soft lighting and a few small vases of flowers. There were a few rows of chairs, just plain wood with a simple red cushion on each, all facing an empty space at the front with a framed painting of a sunrise over green fields. This was the last place Hannibal had expected to find himself. The hospital chapel.

“I don’t really know why I am here,” he continued after a moment of thought. He was sitting in the very back row, nearest the door, and he was alone, which was perhaps unsurprising given that it was nearly three in the morning. “They asked me to leave his room while they did some tests. I don’t know what the tests are, but they’ve done so many tests and they aren’t any closer to finding an answer for why he’s…”

He squeezed his eyes shut and dropped his chin to his chest, swallowing down the threatening tears yet again. He’d thought he had no more tears left to cry, not after the hell of the last week.

“This isn’t fair.” It felt surprisingly good to say it out loud, a microscopic lightening of the weight on his chest, and so he repeated it, louder. “This isn’t fair. I know life isn’t fair, but seriously? After all the shit we’ve been through, this is what happens next?”

He paused again, feeling that strange tingle on the back of his neck. “I apologise for my language. I’m scared for him, and I’m scared for myself, that I’m going to lose him.” He opened his eyes again, staring at the sunrise with dry eyes. “And I don’t believe there’s anyone listening to me right now. This isn’t a prayer for help. I don’t want a miracle.”

A miracle would be nice, though. Face deserved one, surely, even if Hannibal didn’t. 

“He’s a good man,” he found himself saying, choking up a little. “And he’s been through so much in his life. And if it was him sitting here instead of me, then he would be praying, because I know he still believes in a God, even after everything that’s happened to him. So maybe… Maybe if there is someone listening, even though I might not believe it, maybe you could help him out?”

It really wasn’t a prayer, nor was it begging; Hannibal hadn’t believed in any sort of a God since he was a boy. 

“I don’t want a miracle,” he whispered, closing his eyes again and folding his hands in his lap. “Just, perhaps, a little bit of everyday magic. Help the doctors figure it out, so they can help him wake up and he can come back to me. Please.”

There was no answer, of course, not that Hannibal was expecting one. He was being stupid.

No. He was just desperate.

He drifted for a while, just breathing, not quite falling asleep merely resting his aching, tired eyes. It was calm there in the chapel, and quiet, safely insulated from the never-ending noises of the busy military hospital which seemed to never sleep. 

The soft sound of the door opening behind him made him startle fully awake, and he blinked open his eyes with a sniff, straightening his spine and preparing to head on out, back to Face’s bedside. But then, a hesitant voice spoke up.

“Boss?”

Hannibal spun around to see Murdock standing there in the doorway, and for a second his heart stopped, until he saw a cautious smile on his captain’s face.

Hannibal gasped, “Is he – ?”

Murdock nodded, beckoning wildly with one hand even as his smile grew wider, more confident. “He’s awake. And he’s asking for you.”

And as Hannibal hurried from the chapel, he couldn’t help but whisper, “Thank you.”


	48. Reflection (gen)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I missed a prompt! I'm more annoyed at myself than I probably should be, because I was doing so well sticking to the next prompt each day and not skipping ahead, but hey ho, mistakes happen! This should have been prompt 46 so at least I noticed before I got too far ahead.
> 
> LBx

“This is a stupid idea,” Face calls, thoroughly annoyed and thoroughly lost, not that he has any plans to admit that any time soon. “Whose stupid idea was this?”

From somewhere close by, Murdock’s voice answers, sounding far more gleeful than Face feels. “It was your stupid idea, Face! Don’t you remember? You thought it looked fun!”

Damn. Fair point.

“Well, it’s not fun!” Really, very much not fun, not in any way, shape or form. Face takes another turn, then another, a million different versions of his own angry face staring back at him as he tries to negotiate the hall of mirrors. “How big is this place?”

Murdock giggles, and the giggles echo weirdly in the enclosed space. “Are you lost?” he asks.

“No!”

“Sounds like you’re lost.”

“I’m not lost!” Face shouts, taking a corner and slamming face-first into a mirror. “Damn it!”

Another giggle, sounding closer this time. “You okay there, Faceman?”

Face feels his nose gingerly, relieved beyond belief when it doesn’t feel broken, before kicking out at the offending mirror. “Just peachy,” he hisses, stepping back a fraction and realising that this particular mirror is one of those trick mirrors. “This one makes me look fat!”

“I found one that makes me look skinny!” Murdock chirrups in reply, and Face frowns.

“You are skinny,” he points out, taking a deep breath to calm down, standing still and turning slowly on the spot, trying to see his way out.

“That’s true. So maybe it’s just a normal mirror.”

Face is feeling increasingly disoriented and marginally claustrophobic as the mirrors continue play tricks with his mind, so he closes his eyes briefly to try and regain his bearings. “This was a stupid idea,” he says again, then shrieks loudly when a hand closes around his arm – Murdock has apparently found him.

His friend is smiling widely, bouncing on his heels, as he states, “Upon reflection, I would have to agree!” 

Face groans. “Murdock, seriously – ”

“Come on, buddy. I think I’ve found the way out.”

An insistent tug on his arm, and Face lets himself be pulled – at least this way Murdock will smash his own nose first.


	49. Umbrella (H/F)

Trust me, Hannibal, it’s worth watching. When have I ever steered you wrong?

I don’t think you want me to answer that, Face.

Hey, it’s usually _your_ grand plans that go a little less than perfectly!

I’ll pretend you didn’t say that. Not unless you want to be sleeping by yourself tonight?

Definitely not. And you’ll want me in your bed as thanks for showing you this absolute beauty, trust me.

The more you ask me to trust you, Face, the less trusting I’m feeling.

Hush, I’ve found it. Here we go.

…So they just mouth the words to the songs?

Yes, but they perform too.

Oh, I know this one. What a classic – Singing in the rain! Gene Kelly, Debbie Reynolds, Donald O’Connor. Hey, the kid can tap dance. I thought you said he was an actor?

Wait for it, Hannibal, wait for it…

…What? Where did that come from? The costume change – he’s Rihanna!

Told you! Now hush. Watch.

…Where did he learn to move like that? Most guys don’t move like that.

That’s what makes this performance incredible. A lot of guys on this show do drag, but they do it for laughs.

He’s not doing it for laughs, he’s doing it for real. He’s absolutely owning it.

I know, right?

…Can you move like that? The hips, the arms, the legs?

I mean, I like to think I’m a good dancer, but no, I don’t think I could do that. Except for laughs.

Not even with the umbrella? And the rain? Oh, how did they do the rain on the stage?

Is that something you’d like to see? Me trying to dance like this?

…We could get you in one of your corsets first, maybe.

I’ll get my high heels, you get your Rihanna CD. The one you think I don’t know about.

You’re lucky you look sexy in lingerie, Face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The boys are, of course, watching Tom Holland's incredible performance on Lip Sync Battle. If you haven't seen it, or you just want to see it again, then [here you go!](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=b0nNTklOKRA)


	50. Party (H/F + BA/M)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Loosely inspired by the Friends episode 'The One With All The Resolutions'.

“So who are you gonna kiss at midnight?” Murdock wavered a little on his feet, fully feeling the numerous bottles of beer he’d enjoyed, and giggled at the look of confusion on Sergeant Webber’s face. “It’s nearly midnight. You’ve gotta kiss someone at midnight, it’s the law.”

“The law?” Webber sounded as confused as he looked, clearly having enjoyed more than a few beers himself at General Chamberlain’s stonkingly brilliant new year’s eve party. 

Murdock slapped the Sergeant on the shoulder enthusiastically. “Yeah, the law! Like, Lieutenant Morales is gonna kiss Lieutenant Wilson, and Sergeant Jackson is gonna kiss Sergeant Moyes.” 

“So I have to kiss another sergeant?”

“No, you can kiss who you want! But would you actually want to kiss a colonel or a lieutenant?”

Webber shuddered. “Dear god, no.”

“Well, there you go then!” Murdock nodded enthusiastically and pointed across the room to the lovely Sergeant Zafon. “Why don’t you ask Sophia if she’s kissing anyone at midnight?”

As Webber picked his way across the crowded dance floor, Murdock spun in circles until he spotted Hannibal and Face tucked together into a corner near the bar, Face looking impressed while Hannibal looked slightly angry, and even beckoned for Murdock to come over to join them.

But Murdock shrugged, choosing to continue with his personal mission. There were still eleven whole minutes until midnight, and a fair few people that he hadn’t spoken to yet, so it would be close. But he could do this. It was a challenge he wasn’t prepared to fail.

“Who are you kissing at midnight?” he asked over and over, and gradually things started to fall into place, as friendly couples paired up alongside those who had been flirting or waiting for a good opportunity for ages.

He finally found himself back at the bar, and had just managed to snag a fresh bottle of beer before he felt himself grabbed by the collar. “Exactly what do you think you are doing, Captain?” Hannibal growled in his ear, hauling him away and towards where Face stood, still looking impressed and a little bemused now. “Making a fool of yourself, just for a change.”

“Just trying to make things work out for you two,” he squeaked, and Hannibal shook him slightly, until Face reached out to lift Hannibal’s hand away. 

“What do you mean, buddy?” Face asked.

“You said you wanted to kiss at midnight,” Murdock explained, wavering on his feet suddenly without the support of his colonel’s strong hand. “So I figured if I paired everyone off then you two could kiss and no one would notice.”

It was obvious, really, at least to Murdock. Had been obvious from the moment Face had complained about it earlier, when they’d been getting ready back at Hannibal’s house, backed up vociferously by Hannibal. From the dawning look of joy in Face’s vibrant blue eyes and the curious tilt of Hannibal’s noble head, it had been something they hadn’t even considered. 

Hannibal cupped the back of Murdock’s neck, squeezing gently now. “You really did all that for us?” he asked, shaking his head in wonder. 

Murdock ducked his head a little, feeling his cheeks heat with a blush, though maybe that was just the alcohol. “Aw, it’s nothing much. I just want you two to be happy, that’s my new year’s wish.”

The music was suddenly cut off, and the room was filled with the sound of drunken soldiers starting the final countdown to another brand-new year. Murdock smiled as Hannibal stepped closer to Face, Face folding himself almost instinctively into his older lover’s body, and he turned away to give them their privacy, delighted to see the whole room paired off and ready for midnight.

“My work here is done,” he whispered with a grin, though as they reached ten he was surprised to find himself grabbed by the shoulder and spun around to face – “Bosco!”

“Who’s kissing you, then?” BA asked with a grin as he slipped his hands onto Murdock’s waist. “Don’t tell me you didn’t think of that?”

“Well, no, I didn’t – ”

_three two one_

And as the indoor fireworks lit up the room and the music roared back to life, BA’s lips were just as hot and tender as Murdock had always dreamed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can hardly believe this is day 50 of writing these little prompts - I think a small part of me thought normal life would have resumed by now, but instead things are changing to a new sort of normal, and the world is a very different place. I'll be back at work by this time next week after nearly three months on furlough, which is terrifying in some ways and absolutely wonderful in others. Having come this far with these prompts I'm now determined to complete all 100, though I may not be able to write or post everyday once my shops reopen. And on that note, please consider supporting your local bookshops, either online or in person if you feel safe, wherever you are in the world.
> 
> I hope all of you are still staying safe, and looking after yourselves and those you love. 
> 
> Love and best wishes,  
> LB x


	51. Troubling Thoughts (BA/F)

“Are we boring?” 

BA’s words were as soft and considered as anything Face had ever heard from his lover, but they were completely unexpected, coming as they did when they were both happily dozing in the afternoon sun which shone on their bed.

“What on earth makes you say that?” Face stretched a little beneath the thin sheets, savouring the cool material on his naked yet overheated skin, before rolling closer to his equally naked bed partner in the process and tucking his head under BA’s chin. “Because we’re enjoying the post-coital glow in bed rather than doing something else with our afternoon off?”

It was a well earned post-coital glow, even if Face did say so himself, but BA huffed slightly. “No, this is nice,” he eventually admitted, and Face smiled, snuggling closer. “Any time spent with you in bed is nice.”

“Just ‘nice’?” Face teased, craning his head a fraction in order to give BA a mock-glare. “I guess I’ll have to try harder.”

BA squirmed beneath him, wrapping his arms tightly around Face at the same time. “That’s kinda what I meant.”

Oh. Face blinked. “You think I need to try harder in bed?” he asked slowly, not wanting to misread his lover’s statement, though he wasn’t sure how many different ways there actually were to read that. Any number of troubling thoughts started racing through his mind.

But thankfully BA looked immediately horrified. “No, no, no. That’s not what I meant, Temp, not at all!”

Face bruised ego wasn’t entirely soothed. “You sure? It sounded like that was what you meant.”

“No, baby, no.” BA slid one hand up to cup the back of Face’s skull and hauled him up for a deep, burning kiss. “I’m so sorry.”

“Forgiven,” Face breathed, though he was still feeling more than a bit confused, his glow wearing off. “Then, what did you mean? About being boring?”

BA was starting to look as if he wished he’d never said anything, but Face had no intention of letting him off the hook any time soon. He narrowed his eyes and channelled his inner Hannibal until his lover finally sighed in defeat.

“It was just a stupid thought,” BA started. “I love making love with you, and we’re damn good at it, and you definitely don’t need to try harder. But…”

“But what?”

“I just…” BA mumbled something that Face couldn’t quite catch.

“Again, audibly please.”

“I just wondered if we were being boring because… wedothesamestuffallthetime.”

It took Face a moment to decipher that, but when he did, his eyes popped wide open in surprise. He hadn’t expected that. “Are you saying you want to get a bit kinky, Bosco, sweetheart?” he asked, lowering his voice to the sultry tones he knew usually excited his lover. “Whips and chains and leather? I had no idea that was something you wanted.”

“It’s not!” BA quickly shook his head, and the look of horror in his eyes was genuine to Face. “It’s really not. I love what we do. But if it’s something you wanted to try, if _you_ thought we were boring, then – ”

“I love what we do too.” Face leaned up to kiss BA again, relieved that his lover seemed to be stressing over nothing. “I don’t have any particular desire to get kinky with you,” he said softly when they broke apart. “I’ve tried stuff, in the past, and it doesn’t do much for me. But I would, if you wanted to.”

“And I would, if you wanted to.”

“But neither of us want to.” Face waited for BA’s nod and smiled contentedly, rolling fully on top of the other man and relishing the way BA’s strong thighs parted automatically to cradle him. “Then vanilla it is, and vanilla it shall remain, and that’s the way we both like it.”

“There’s nothing boring about vanilla,” BA breathed with a wicked grin, stroking one hand down Face’s spine and pushing the sheet away. “Always was my favourite flavour of ice cream, after all.”

And as BA’s warm hand cupped Face’s ass, suggesting round two might be on the cards, Face found he would have to agree.


	52. Stirring In The Wind (H/F)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A sequel to chapter 37 - Mist.

Hannibal feels as if he can see forever, from the mountains in the north over the fields and forests to the east and south, and even to the distant coastline in the west. The sky above them is a pale shade of blue though the sun is dropping lower and lower towards the horizon now as time passes too quickly.

Time always passes too quickly.

He tightens his grip on Face’s powerful neck, squeezes his thighs a little tighter where they rest either side of strong shoulders, and closes his eyes for a split-second, dizzy with the weight of everything, even though he feels weightless in this stolen time.

One day each year, that’s all they have. One day when Face’s memories return, even though his form remains dragon rather than human, and Hannibal can only imagine how awful it must be for the man he loves to be trapped in such a body. Just thinking about it nearly breaks his heart, but he has to stay strong and savour these hours.

Beneath him, Face’s scales twinkle like true sapphires in the early evening light, hints of gold and silver shining brightly as his muscles move almost lazily, his long neck swaying gently to and fro. From Hannibal’s perch on Face’s shoulders he can’t see back to where the wings are powering up and down and up again, though he can hear the stirring of the wind as together they soar higher and swoop lower.

He daren’t look down. He knows Face won’t drop him, and he knows he’s safe, but they are very, very high indeed, so high that they actually pass over the occasional cloud. He looks out instead of down, at the mountains, and the fields, and the trees, and the distant sea, and he tries not to think that their time together is nearly over for another year.

Face suddenly swoops low, a near-nosedive that leaves Hannibal’s stomach in his throat, before rolling first to his right then to his left, then with a series of powerful pumps of his magnificent wings they are climbing nearly vertically towards the sky, and Hannibal laughs with joy, holding so tightly that his fingers are nearly numb.

Another lazy roll and they are coasting back downwards, and Face eases into a glide that takes them into a simple spiral. Hannibal leans forwards, still holding on with everything he has, and rests his forehead between his hands on Face’s scales. He breathes in the familiar and much missed scent of the man he still loves, letting the wind blow over and around them as he chokes up slightly.

The sun is sinking lower now, and he knows Face will be taking him back now, back to the edge of the forest where they always meet. Dawn until dusk, that’s all the curse allows them, and soon Face will forget once more. Face will return to the other dragons high in the mountains, and Hannibal will make the long trek back to his village, and this will be over.

They’re skimming low over the trees when Hannibal lifts his head again, blinking away the tears he refuses to let fall, determined to make the most of every second they have. The sky is darkening rapidly above them, and Face startles Hannibal by suddenly lifting his head high and letting loose an ear-splitting roar, sounding strangely mournful yet also powerful.

Hannibal can’t help but shiver at the sound. This is Face, now. And Face roars again, and again, the sound taking over everything and filling Hannibal’s head and chest and soul until he joins in, throwing his head back and shouting out his anger and his grief and also his love.

And then they have landed, so delicately that Hannibal barely feels Face touch his huge paws to the ground. He doesn’t slide down immediately, choosing to rest in place a little longer, catching his breath and savouring the warmth of Face’s powerful new body.

“I don’t want to go,” he says, his voice soft yet still loud in the sudden silence without the wind and the roars. “I don’t want you to go. I love you. Take me with you, please?”

Face can’t answer, of course, though he huffs a thin breath of smoke as he twists his head round on his long neck to stare at Hannibal with vivid blue eyes. Hannibal nods once, reluctantly swinging his left leg over until he can slip down Face’s front leg to the ground. His legs feel weak and he staggers briefly, steadying himself with a hand on Face’s neck.

It’s nearly dark now, and they both know Face has to go. Hannibal kisses the dragon very gently on his nose, rubbing a hand between those blue, blue eyes, then steps back to the edge of the forest to watch as his only true love is suddenly gone with a fluttering of wings and one final roar.


	53. Future (gen)

“And after we’ve done that, then…” Face tailed off with a huff of frustration, shaking his head, and Hannibal doesn’t need to be an expert in reading body language to tell that the younger man is getting frustrated with himself.

“Take a breath,” he says, waiting until Face does so. “Now, what happens next?”

“I don’t know what happens next, that’s the problem!” Face slams one fist down on the planning table, making the action figures and model toys they use for mapping out the mission all wobble and fall over. “You make this look too damn easy, and it’s really not easy.”

Hannibal would usually stay silent and let Face work his way through this, but he can see that the frustration is starting to boil over into anger, and that won’t help. “I’ve been concocting crazy plans for decades now,” he points out, watching as Face starts to pace as much as he can in the tight space of the tent. “You’ve watched me, yes, and I’ve tried to teach you a bit, but it’s different when you’re the one trying to make the plans yourself from the beginning.”

That’s the next step for Face, Hannibal knows, whether or not his Lieutenant ever wants to leave the team or work towards his long-overdue promotion to Captain. Hannibal has always been torn between pushing Face to move on and his instinct to keep the kid close; they work well together, almost instinctively, and with the recent addition of Murdock and Baracus their little team has the potential to be utterly unbeatable. 

Still, Face needs some more direct training in planning missions, whether or not he ever moves on. If Hannibal is incapacitated on a mission or, heaven forbid, captured, then Face’s improvisation skills need a more formal edge.

Formal. As if anything Hannibal ever does is formal.

“There’s too many possibilities,” Face suddenly says, abruptly stopping his pacing and turning back to the table, reaching out a hand to start picking up the fallen action heroes, placing them back on their previous marks. “You always say to think three steps ahead, but each step depends on someone else’s actions.”

“It’s like a game of chess,” Hannibal says softly, watching his boy closely, and Face snorts.

“I hate chess.”

“I know you do.” Hannibal wasted many an evening trying to teach Face the finer points of the game, before accepting that the boy just didn’t have the patience for it. “But you could see all the potential moves when we did play, couldn’t you?”

“Yeah, that was never the problem. And it’s not the problem now.” Face makes a sweeping gesture that encompasses the entire planning table and most of the tent. “I can see that if we make that move and things work out as I hope, then we can go to that position and Murdock moves in over there, but what if things don’t work out? How can you be three steps ahead of every single possibility?”

Ah, the age-old question. Hannibal suggests, “Start with just the one possibility.”

Face gives him a withering look, those piercingly blue eyes full of questions and denial and rebellion. “Just the one?” 

“Sometimes you can’t know exactly how things will work out, so you start with the most likely, even if it’s not the one we hope for. None of us can see into the future, kid.”

Face huffs a laugh, some of the tension melting from his broad shoulders, just as Hannibal had hoped. “I thought that was one of your special powers,” he comments with a quirk of an eyebrow, standing a little straighter.

“I wish it was.”

“But you aren’t denying that you do have special powers?” Ah, now _there’s_ the Face Hannibal needs. “I always knew it.”

“Why don’t you take it from the top?” Hannibal suggests with a smile, and Face smiles back, nodding as together they move all the action figures back to their starting positions.


	54. Health and Healing (gen)

Murdock hauled Hannibal as gently as he could into the office chair and stepped back to catch his breath. Given that Hannibal was six foot four and built entirely of lean, heavy muscle, it wasn’t as gentle as he would’ve liked, but hey, beggars couldn’t be choosers.

“Now you just sit there,” he told the colonel firmly, crossing his arms over his chest and pinning on his best glare. “Bosco’ll be here with some food in a few minutes and Face is smoothing things over with the general.”

“I’m fine.” Hannibal was already trying to climb out of the chair but Murdock was fairly confident he wouldn’t get very far under his own steam, so he just waited, and watched, and glared a little more.

Sure enough, before Hannibal even managed to stand the colour had drained from his face again, and Murdock felt his glare fade to a worried frown as Hannibal sank back down heavily. He dropped to his knees in front of their obviously poorly colonel, resting one hand gently on Hannibal’s knee.

He gave the older man a moment before urging softly, “Please just sit still, boss.” 

“I’m sorry for the fuss,” Hannibal started, shaking his head and closing his eyes. “I really will be fine.”

“I know you’ll be fine. Just as soon as you eat something, then let us take you back to the house so you can get some sleep.” Murdock was feeling angry again, and he squeezed Hannibal’s knee hard, hoping to shock some sense into the older man. “What the hell were you thinking?”

Hannibal’s blue-grey eyes snapped open at that and immediately narrowed into a glare of his own, though the effect was diluted somewhat by the clear dizziness Murdock could see, as well as the fact that the colonel’s cheeks were still chalk-white. “Watch your tone with me, Captain.”

“Are you wanting me to call you ‘Colonel’, then?” Murdock snorted. “You’re not in charge right now, Hannibal, you gave up that right when you completely failed to look after yourself. If it was one of us then you’d be reading us the riot act right about now.”

Some of the stubbornness started to fade, and Hannibal mumbled, “I didn’t mean to skip breakfast, I just slept in.”

“And why did you sleep in?” Murdock pushed, already knowing the answer yet needing to hear it from Hannibal’s own lips.

“I don’t see why that’s – ”

“Hannibal, why did you sleep in?”

A sigh, and a shake of that noble silver head, before Hannibal finally gave up. “I slept in because I’m not feeling well. Just a touch of flu.”

“Did you even eat anything last night?” Another shake of Hannibal’s head, and Murdock swallowed down his rising anger. “So you rocked up to an important briefing having not eaten anything for nearly a whole day, and feeling sick and dizzy. No wonder you nearly fainted.”

“I didn’t nearly faint. I nearly collapsed, just a tiny bit, in a completely manly manner.” Half a smile from Hannibal, but Murdock wasn’t prepared to let it go that easily.

“Now, Face is covering for you with Morrison, and you’ll know he’ll have finished the briefing for you too as well as given some reasonable excuse for your absence that doesn’t involve you completely failing to care for yourself.” Murdock waited for Hannibal’s acknowledging nod before continuing, “I’m fairly sure I can hear the thunderous footsteps of BA heading our way with suitable food, and you will eat, and you will come home and let us put you to bed.”

“Murdock – ”

“And then you will rest until you feel better, and when you feel better then finally you will listen to a lecture on the joys and benefits of health and healing, which I will spend the next few hours writing, and which will involve the use of both sock puppets and mime.” 

“Murdock, I’m sorry. Truly.”

Murdock softened again, and found himself smiling at the colonel, who genuinely did look sorry, as well as looking increasingly limp and pale. “Aw, boss, you just scared us, that’s all. Don't do it again.”


	55. Separation (BA/F)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little continuation of prompt 42 - Start.  
> LB x

He’d known it would be difficult, and he’d tried to brace himself for it, but it was still almost too much. As soon as he closed the door behind his husband and stood alone in the hallway of their new home, he couldn’t help but wonder if he was strong enough to manage after all.

He shook it off as well as he could, swallowed hard, and tried to carry on with his day. Because what else could he do?

They’d had more time together than either of them had dared hope for, and maybe that had actually made it harder, not easier. Nearly eight months now since he’d signed the final pieces of paperwork that had ended his career in the Rangers; nearly eight months of starting to figure out how to live the rest of his life.

Nearly seven months since they’d found their first home, signing the final contracts that said it belonged to them, just the two of them together at last in their own place.

Nearly six months since they’d stood up together in front of all their friends and family, vowing to love each other always, in sickness and in health, until death parts them.

Nearly five months since Hannibal and Murdock had gone back out on deployment, their extended time in the States drawing to an inevitable close. That had been hard yet also bearable, because then it really had just been the two of them, and they’d gone on a belated honeymoon to Australia, one of the few places that neither of them had ever visited.

Nearly four months since Cat had moved in with them – they’d argued over names for so long that, in the end, their new rescue cat was just Cat, and always will be.

Nearly three months since his last seizure, not that he’s counting (fingers crossed and touch wood and turn three times then spit). His doctors had worked tirelessly to trial different medications with him until it seemed they’d finally hit the jackpot. It was quite a cocktail of pills he took each day now, but it was worth it for a little more independence and a little more confidence in his changed body.

Nearly two months since his husband had broken his arm in a freak accident on base, and they’d been able to laugh about their matching slings, both left arms now out of action so they didn’t even have one working pair of arms between them. They’d taken the time to muddle through getting a vegetable patch planted, not helped by Cat who took great pleasure in digging up anything they’d just planted.

Nearly one month since his husband had been told his deployment date, more notice than they could have ever asked for. Perhaps too much notice. They’d ignored it as much as they could and carried on with the life they’d begun to build together. Decorating the house. Visits to the local coffee shop. Physio appointments. Dinner or drinks with friends. Weekends in Chicago with his new mother-in-law.

But today their borrowed time finally ran out, and he was left alone to face the reality of the decision he’d made all those long months ago. His husband will be gone for a minimum of three months, and he will be alone to live the reality of his new start. This is what he wanted. This was his choice, and he didn’t regret it. Couldn’t regret it, not for a second.

The reality of their separation was setting in quickly. Even the little things suddenly seemed enormous – their house was all on one level, with no stairs to climb, but what if his unsteady left leg collapsed and he fell, or if his pills failed and he had a seizure?

He shook himself again, letting the comforting silence of their home fill him, until he heard Cat crying for her dinner in the kitchen. This was what he needed, what he had wanted as soon as he knew he couldn’t go back to the life he’d had. This was his time to figure out what came next; he’d had money and resources enough to take his time, not having to rush into a new job, but this was his opportunity. 

And as much as he loved his husband, he’d always known he had to do this part alone.

If he needed help, it was only a phone call away, but the tattoo on his right bicep declared he was a Ranger, even if he had retired. He’d survived war and he’d survived an aneurysm and so he would survive three months of separation from the man he loved, and he would figure out the rest of it.

He might not get it right first time, but he’d get there in the end. And he’d be damned if he didn’t have some fun along the way.


	56. Everything For You (BA/M)

“Get up.” Murdock poked BA gently in the ribs with a finger. “You need a shower.” BA just groaned and mumbled something utterly unintelligible, making Murdock giggle. He settled on his side on the bed, head propped up on one arm, and poked his lover again. “Up, man. Come on.”

“Don’t wanna,” BA muttered, lying still and flat on his back, naked as the day he was born, managing to flap one hand vaguely in the direction of Murdock’s prodding finger yet not coming anywhere close. 

“Get up,” Murdock said again, smirking at the mess he’d made of his lover. “You know you need to clean up.”

“Don’t wanna.”

Murdock moved his poking finger a little lower, aiming for the ticklish spot just above BA’s left hip. “You’ll only grumble at me in the morning if you go to sleep like this,” he pointed out, but BA just grunted again, barely twitching.

“Leave me alone, man.”

“That’s not what you were saying five minutes ago.” Murdock leaned over to steal a brief kiss from BA’s parted lips, gentling his finger to stroke up and down over the sweat-slicked skin on the other man’s abs. “Five minutes ago you were begging me not to stop. ‘Faster, baby, faster’.”

BA smiled up at him though his eyes stayed firmly shut. “And five minutes ago you did exactly that,” he said. “You’re good at doing what I tell you to do when we’re in bed.”

“You think that’s why I did all that? ‘Cause you told me to do it?”

“No.” BA finally blinked open his eyes and rolled his head towards Murdock. “No, I think you did all that ‘cause you wanted to. The fact I wanted to too, I mean as well was, well…”

Murdock chuckled under his breath, spreading his palm flat across his lover’s belly. “I think I fried your brain a little, huh?” he whispered, more to himself than to BA, whose eyes had slid shut again almost the moment they’d opened. “But you still need to clean up a little before you fall asleep, sweetheart.”

A long pause, then, “Huh?”

“So I really do have to do everything for you tonight then?” It was a thoroughly rhetorical question as a tiny snore slipped from BA’s lips, and Murdock stroked up and across his lover’s chest with a smile before rolling off the bed in search of a damp washcloth and a towel or two. “You’re lucky I love you, you lazy thing.”


	57. Slow Down (H/F)

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Hannibal, stop, please.”

Ignoring Face, Hannibal just kept right on walking, jaw clenched and hands fisted at his sides. He could hear his lover’s footsteps keeping pace close behind him but Face obviously knew him well enough not to risk reaching out.

A good thing. Hannibal honestly didn’t know how he’d react if Face touched him.

“I still can’t believe you would even suggest it,” he growled over his shoulder. “I told you it was just a bad day.”

“It’s not the first time I’ve said it, and you know we’re going to have to talk about it at some point.”

“No, we don’t.”

“Yes, we do, and preferably before you get yourself shot or killed, or make a mistake that gets one of us shot or killed.”

Hannibal slammed to a stop at that, and spun on his heel to glare at Face. “You don’t trust me?” he practically shouted. “Is that what this is all about?”

Face had sensibly stopped just out of arms reach and, to Hannibal’s surprise, he looked upset rather than angry. “Please don’t twist my words, John,” he said softly, running one hand back through his messy curls.

“I’m not twisting anything.”

“I just want you to still be here in a week, a month, a year…” Face sighed. “There’s no shame in admitting that this isn’t getting any easier.”

“I’m every bit as good at this now as I’ve always been.” Hannibal was only growing more outraged and he took a half-step closer to his lover though Face held his ground, to Hannibal’s grudging respect. “I do not need to slow down.”

“We’ve been on the run for ten years,” Face pointed out. “And I don’t think either one of us still believes we’ll suddenly be pardoned.”

As much as Hannibal might want to deny it, Face did have a fair point. With each passing day, he believed a little less in that mythical idea of a pardon that would give them their old lives back, but still…

“Why does that mean we have to change anything we do? We’re good at this and we make a huge difference in people’s lives, then because of one tiny mistake – ”

“It’s not just one mistake though, sweetheart.” Face was starting to sound a little desperate, and for the first time Hannibal felt a twinge of guilt, though he kept his expression firm. “It was last week, and last month, and then there was the time before that, and before that, and I don’t want to ever lose you.”

“Face – ”

“And it’s not just you. We’re all ten years older, have you thought about that? Just because you’re the oldest one doesn’t mean we aren’t all feeling it too.”

That thought hit hard and made Hannibal take a step back. “Are you okay?” he asked immediately, and Face nodded reassuringly.

“I’m fine, but I’m tired,” he answered simply. “It’s getting harder to bounce back after the more physical jobs, especially when we only get a day or so to rest before the next one. I’m not afraid to admit that.”

_Why are you afraid?_

The unspoken question hung in the air between them for a long moment, and Hannibal looked – really, truly looked – at the man he’d loved for more than twenty years now. Face was still handsome but his boyish good looks had matured, with tiny lines by his eyes and the first threads of silver shining in his curls, a wisdom shining in those sapphire eyes that hadn’t changed even a bit since the day Hannibal had met him.

“I love you so much,” Hannibal told him, and Face smiled suddenly, his eyes lighting up. “And perhaps you’re right. I’m not ready to retire, but maybe we can talk about things.”

“That’s all I ever wanted.” And Face stepped forwards, right into Hannibal’s arms. “Thank you.”


	58. Heartfelt Apology (H/F)

Face was trying not to laugh, but it was a battle he was losing rapidly, while Hannibal really did look angry now they were back inside their tent, whereas before he’d just looked embarrassed. 

“I can’t believe you would do this to me,” Hannibal hissed at him through gritted teeth, beautifully bare chested and brandishing his t-shirt at Face in one hand. “How could you let me go out there like this?”

“It wasn’t my decision to go play football as skins and shirts!” Face blurted it out without really thinking, and regretted it almost immediately when Hannibal actually growled. “I mean, I figured no one would see it and I could break it to you gently tonight.”

“Why didn’t you break it to me gently this morning?”

It was a valid question, admittedly, but one with an equally valid answer. “You’d already left before I woke up,” Face pointed out, biting the inside of his cheek to prevent any stray giggles escaping. “I figured you’d wake me before you went, but you didn’t. I didn’t even get a kiss.”

Hannibal took a step closer, towering over Face in the particular way he only did when he was really, truly pissed off. “Why did you do it in the first place?” 

“It wasn’t just me,” Face tried, then shook his head, changing tactics. “It was a team effort, boss, honestly. And you were there for most of the drinking games, remember? You just… stopped playing before the rest of us did.”

It was a deliberately delicate phrase: Hannibal had passed out face-down on his bunk shortly after two in the morning, beautifully naked apart from his briefs and boots. And the temptation for Face and the rest of their team had been too much to bear.

“What part of all that gave you the right to do this to me?” Hannibal demanded, spinning round to show Face his bare back once again, as if he hadn’t seen it already. As if he hadn’t been the one wielding the Sharpie for most of the time. “I’m your Colonel, in case you’d forgotten.”

Face nearly choked on his laughter, seeing it again as if for the first time. It was a fine work of art, even if he did say so himself, and carefully, deliberately inoffensive; even as dangerously drunk as he’d been last night, he loved and respected the hell out of Hannibal, and he wouldn’t have dared do anything truly horrendous. He’d even managed to rein in Murdock and BA.

“I started off trying to play connect the dots,” Face admitted, and Hannibal glared at him over one shoulder. “You’ve got a few freckles here, and here…” He trailed a hand carefully up his lover’s long, strong spine, feeling the muscles twitch beneath his fingers. “It seemed like a good idea at the time.”

“What changed?”

“Murdock said it looked a bit like a smiley face, then BA suggested I could, well, I don’t think you want all the details do you?” 

It really was just a giant smiley face, stretching from shoulder blades to the small of Hannibal’s back, marked into Hannibal’s skin using the marker pens they’d all sworn they’d never use as weapons again. Face could understand why his lover was pissed, but it wasn’t anywhere near as bad as he’d had to put up with, nor Murdock, and the rest of the base had simply found it hilarious when their Colonel had stripped off his shirt to join in with the football game as a substitute.

Hannibal huffed and spun round again, pulling his shirt back over his head as quickly as he could. “You’ll pay for this,” he muttered, but Face could already see the anger starting to fade away just a little. 

“How about I start by giving you a back rub in the shower?” Face suggested, taking a half-step closer and fluttering his eyelashes suggestively. “I could see if it washes off?”

“How about you start with the most heartfelt apology you can possibly summon up?” Hannibal countered, though he followed it up with a huge sigh which gave Face the confidence to step closer again.

“I’m sorry,” he offered, dropping his chin to his chest submissively, and Hannibal snorted.

“You’ll have to do better than that.”

“I’m very, very sorry.”

“Not good enough.” Hannibal reached out with a growl to haul Face into his arms. “Come on. Shower. You can show me just how sorry you really are.”


	59. Challenged (M/F)

Challenge accepted!

That wasn’t a challenge, Murdock, it was just a statement of fact. 

A fact I happen to disagree with, Face.

Doesn’t mean it isn’t true.

Actually, that’s exactly what it means. 

Murdock – 

It means I don’t believe it’s true, and I accept your challenge to prove myself right and prove you wrong.

There was no challenge.

I heard a challenge.

Did you take your pills this morning?

I heard an implicit, silent challenge.

So you’re hearing things then?

Don’t tease me, you know there was an implicit challenge there.

That’s a fact I happen to disagree with.

Then you can accept the challenge to disprove my challenge to prove your statement wrong, if you choose to do so.

…That made no sense whatsoever, Murdock.

When do I ever make any sense, Face?

Well, you make a good point there that I also do not disagree with.

So do you accept now that you have challenged me and I am honour-bound to accept that challenge?

I do not accept that I challenged you but I accept that you accepted a random challenge that you made up to challenge yourself because of a statement of fact that I made that you disagree with.

…Face, that made no sense whatsoever.

Deal with it.

Still, I have accepted the challenge and I shall be victorious, come hell or high water.

I think you’re really reading too much into what I said, baby, and anyway, you’ve got me. 

What do you mean?

I mean, who cares if I think it’s impossible to get someone’s phone number wearing a baseball cap?

It’s not impossible, I’ve done it loads of times.

Recently?

No, not recently, Mister Insecure. Just because you’ve never managed to get someone’s phone number wearing a baseball cap – 

I’ve never done it because it’s impossible to do. Baseball caps are a practical necessity but they aren’t sexy and they don’t scream ‘hey, give me your phone number and I’ll call you’.

So you don’t think I’m sexy in my little red cap?

I think you are always sexy, baby, whether you’re wearing anything or nothing at all. Now who’s Mister Insecure?

Fifty bucks says I can get someone’s number wearing this little red beauty.

Hang on, I thought this was a challenge not a bet?

It is a challenge, but let’s make it fun!

Okay, fifty bucks says you can’t get someone’s number. This should go without saying but no cheating, no fake numbers, no telling the other person it’s for a bet. Agreed?

Agreed. And if I win, you have to wear my cap tonight in bed. Only the cap.

You won’t win. But I’m sure that can be arranged.

…Face? You wanna skip the bet and just straight go to bed?


	60. Exhaustion (BA/F)

The second he steps inside the door, it hits him hard. The job is done, the children are safe, his team are all in one piece, and he’s never been this tired in living memory. It’s been three days since he’s slept for longer than a few snatched minutes at a time, and he’s barely eaten, and he’s not used to this any longer. He feels old and he feels pathetic and he’s held himself together for as long as he can, but he can’t…

“Easy there, baby.” It’s BA, catching him as he sways gently, his legs threatening to dissolve beneath him. “I’ve got you.”

A faint hum of other voices, his team presumably discussing him, but he can’t bring himself to care much as he leans into BA’s strength, feeling one arm snake around his waist as another cups his head, bringing him to rest on a sturdy shoulder. Then he’s moving, almost being carried but not quite, somehow dragging his feet along at he’s guided through their luxury motel suite – luxury in that they have two bedrooms and a separate lounge-slash-kitchen for once, rather than one cramped bedroom to share – and he just closes his eyes and goes with the flow.

“You still awake?” BA whispers, and he tries to pull himself together a little.

“Yeah,” he manages without opening his eyes. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry. You were amazing, Face.” He shakes his head but BA insists, “Yes, you were. You took care of everything, even when Hannibal dropped the ball. And I’m going to take care of you now.”

He’s lowered to sit on the edge of their bed, the motel mattress firm yet welcoming to his suddenly aching body. “Sorry,” he says again, eyes still mostly shut, as he feels BA’s steady hands pulling off his shoes. “Shouldn’t have to.”

“Murdock’s going to heat up some of that soup for you, and Hannibal… well, I don’t know what Hannibal’s going to do, but you can bet he’s hovering, probably beating himself up a bit for letting you get in this state.”

Even in his exhaustion, he can hear that his lover is also beating himself up, and he rouses himself a fraction. They’ve all worked hard; they’re all tired. He gets his eyes partially open, just as BA’s hands are reaching for his belt. He catches those hands, those clever, gentle, creative hands, and squeezes gently until his lover looks up to meet his eyes. 

He takes a breath. “Not anyone’s fault, okay? Just what needed to be done.” 

He smiles, and he sees BA smile back at him, and that’s about the last of the strength he has left. His eyes slip closed again but it doesn’t matter because BA has him; his belt is off then his shirt is unbuttoned, his jeans next then he manages to lift his hips to let his lover slide those jeans down and away. He knows he’s in safe hands and he finds himself guided back onto the bed, dressed only in his t-shirt and boxers, head settled into surprisingly soft pillows and legs lifted up one at a time before the blankets are tugged into place.

A soft kiss on his lips, though he’s already mostly asleep, and a whispered, “I’ll wake you when the soup’s ready.”

He thinks he hums an acknowledgment, but it’s more likely that he’s already asleep.


	61. Accuracy (BA/M + H/F)

Things had gone suspiciously quiet in the kitchen, which made BA nervous, especially when he knew both Murdock and Face were in there. In theory, they were baking something to cheer up Hannibal, who was bed-bound after throwing his back out. In practise, that usually meant a lot more noise, at least from BA’s experience.

Quiet was unnerving where baking was concerned.

As much as BA had been enjoying the peace, he needed to know what the two fools were up to, and so he huffed his way through to the kitchen, fully prepared to bang their two fool heads together if needed.

“What are you two up to?” he asked loudly, flexing his fists and feeling strangely angry already at not being disturbed, but to his surprise the quiet turned out to actually be a good kind of quiet, for once.

“Murdock’s baking,” Face announced from his seat at the kitchen table, without even glancing up from the book he was apparently reading. “I’m reading,” he added, fairly pointlessly.

“I am not just baking, Face.” Murdock didn’t look up either, though BA could perhaps understand that and forgive his crazy lover, given the delicate stage he appeared to be at. “I am creating works of art.”

BA peered at the display of ingredients Murdock was working over. “Is that choux pastry?” he asked after a second, feeling oddly pleased with himself when Murdock nodded and smiled.

“It is indeed. I am making Hannibal some religieuses.”

“Religions?”

“No, silly. Religieuses.”

BA glanced over at Face for help, and Face obligingly told him, “Choux pastry nuns.” Without even looking up from his book, calmly turning another page, Face added, “I’m not careful enough to help, apparently. Nor am I allowed to leave the room since I’d said I’d help in the first place.”

“The trick with choux is to weigh everything with pinpoint accuracy,” Murdock said primly. “You weren’t even pretending to use the scales.”

Face did glance up at that, a wicked grin spreading across his handsome features. “Half the fun of baking is in chucking random stuff in the bowl, then seeing how it turns out, so recipes just ruin the fun.”

“Mary would disagree.” Murdock both sounded snooty and disappointed.

Looking back and forth between Face and Murdock, BA waited for someone to explain, but when no explanation was offered he was forced to ask, “Mary who?”

Murdock gasped, actually pausing his baking to glare over at BA. “Don’t tell me you don’t know?” He sounded horrified. “Don’t tell me you don’t watch?”

Oh, yeah, that. There was some cooking show Murdock had been obsessed with recently, though BA had fallen asleep every time he’d tried to watch it with him. “Of course I know, baby,” he soothed, and Murdock bent immediately back to his baking. A dim fact drifted up from the depths of his mind. “But I thought the female judge was called Prue?”

“Prue took over from Mary,” Face said, sounding completely disinterested as he turned another page in his book. “Prue has fabulous necklaces, Mary wears amazing sweaters. But Paul is the real star for me.”

Murdock placed his piping bag down quickly before dissolving into fits of laughter. “It comes as no surprise that you have a thing for a hot silver fox, Faceman!” he snorted, and BA decided he was better off not knowing or understanding, and he then decided to give up on the pair of them, leaving the kitchen quickly before he could be dragged into the debate.

Clearly it was time to go check in on Hannibal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The boys are, of course, discussing The Great British Bake Off. Specifically, Mary Berry, Prue Leith and Paul Hollywood.
> 
> Mary Berry's recipe for religieuses can be found [over here](https://thegreatbritishbakeoff.co.uk/recipes/all/mary-berry-religieuses/) \- good luck!


	62. Irregular Orbit (Morrison/Hannibal + H/F)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tags updated to include a new pairing, Russell Morrison/Hannibal Smith. 
> 
> No, I wasn't expecting it either!
> 
> Hope everyone is doing okay and staying safe. Thanks for reading!  
> LB x

You’ve watched them for years, and you don’t think you’ll ever get tired of seeing them twist and turn around each other. It’s shaping up to be an epic story, and you take pride in the small part you’ve played. You’ll never not be fascinated by the two of them.

You’ll never admit it, of course. Personally, it’s absolutely none of your business. Professionally, you absolutely cannot know or suspect or ask.

Still, they’re a fascinating pair, and they simply shouldn’t work together, yet you were the first one to see their potential, all those years earlier. Not their full potential, of course, not even you could’ve guessed just how far they’d come.

Hannibal has always been an obsession, admittedly. You’d shared a brief yet intense love affair, back when Hannibal had been a young Second Lieutenant with everything to prove, yet you’d quickly found you were better suited as friends, even though you were already a Major. You’d been a little older, a little more mature, but Hannibal’s potential had blown you away. The kid was going to go far.

The instinctive skill and innate brilliance you could see in him had been unique, or so you’d thought, and you delighted in watching his development over the years that followed. You’d never thought you would see his equal and then, out of nowhere, this new kid popped up, the star of his Ranger class by an absolute mile. A kid who had already earned the nickname Face.

You knew instinctively that the two of them would find their way together. Minds such as those two could only ever attract – like magnetism, or gravity – and sure enough, Face fell quickly into Hannibal’s orbit just a few short weeks after his graduation.

It was amusing, watching your old lover and close friend trying to figure out how to manage a kid who was every bit as sharp and difficult and challenging as Hannibal himself had been. They’d butted heads, and Face chafed under Hannibal’s increasingly dictatorial methods, and Hannibal even came to you to demand your help getting him transferred away.

You refused. You tried, and failed, not to laugh. You wanted to see what would come next. You had a feeling it would be amazing.

Sure enough, they grew steadily closer, Face blossoming under Hannibal’s tuition almost in spite of himself, and Hannibal learned from Face’s vastly different perspective on life. It wasn’t smooth sailing by any means, and Face tested Hannibal sorely – you even wondered if you would’ve had the patience not to smack the boy down, if you’d been in Hannibal’s position.

Still, that strange gravity held firm. Face’s orbit was far from steady, and he’d pull away for months on end, taking temporary assignments elsewhere for training and development, yet something always pulled him back into that irregular orbit around the newly-minted Colonel Hannibal Smith.

You can’t help but wonder exactly when they’d first fallen into bed together, but you can’t ask, and they can’t tell, and does it really matter anyway?

Watching them at work together has always been a sheer delight, as they bounce ideas off each other and challenge and question and argue. Face used to back down out of respect but he holds his ground now when he knows he’s right, though his esteem and devotion to Hannibal are obviously unshakeable. Watching them at play is a similar delight, in the flickering light of a campfire when they lean into each other’s bodies almost instictively, or when you see a particular smile on Hannibal’s lips as he watches his boy.

It’s the same smile you used to see on his lips when you were alone in bed together, all those years earlier.

You have no regrets; Hannibal was never meant to be yours. Still, perhaps Hannibal is still in his own irregular orbit around you now, after more than twenty years.


	63. Cold Embrace (BA/F)

“What the – ?” Face yelped, startled out of a deep and restful sleep by the sudden icy presence in his bed and against his back. He tried to squirm away but strong yet chilled arms slid around his waist and squeezed tight, pinning him in place.

“Just me,” BA whispered, almost pointlessly as he nuzzled into Face’s nape with a cold nose, spooning his full body against Face’s. “Go back to sleep.”

It was still dark outside, and the rest of their current safe house was quiet, but there was absolutely zero chance of sleep happening again any time soon. “Why the hell are you imitating an ice block?” Face grumbled, shivers already rippling up and down his spine as BA slid one leg between his own, locking them together pretty effectively.

“Been out on patrol, checking the perimeter.”

“And?”

“And it’s snowing out there.”

Face lifted his head from the warm pillows and tried to look back over his shoulder, though he didn’t get far as BA met him with a kiss to the cheek. “Even your lips are freezing,” he moaned, pulling quickly away, and his lover just laughed softly.

“I’m warming up already.” 

“And I’m cooling down rapidly.” Actually, Face was already starting to recover from the shock awakening of a cold embrace, and the chill was fading as the heat beneath the blankets started to build again. Still – “Feet, Bosco, damn it!”

“Sorry, sweetheart.” Another kiss, this time to Face’s bare shoulder, as the offending frozen limbs were moved away. 

Face found himself leaning into the kiss this time, particularly as BA’s hands started to roam over his chest and stomach, though he couldn’t help pointing out, “You could’ve had a hot shower before you got back into bed.”

BA laughed again, a soft rumble that Face felt pass from his lover’s chest through his back. “Why would I do that when I had you waiting here for me? My own personal hot water bottle.”

“Is that all I am to you?” Face let himself be pulled gently over onto his back as BA shifted up onto one elbow to lean over him, a hovering shadow in the darkness. “Just a warm body in your bed?”

A longer, lingering kiss to the lips, and Face slid his arms around BA’s muscled back as his lover replied, “A gorgeous warm body in my bed, if that makes you feel better.”

“A little better.” Face hauled BA back down for another kiss, and another, and gradually the heat between them grew until the chill from earlier was a distant memory. As was the notion of going back to sleep. “Why don’t you let me warm you up properly?” he suggested, and BA shifted until he was lying in between Face’s legs.

“Sounds like a pretty hot plan to me.”


	64. Frost (M/F)

“I don’t get it.” Murdock frowned, tilting his head to one side with one gloved hand on his hip, as he watched Face walking ahead of him. “Why are we out here again?”

“I didn’t ask you to come,” Face replied, though Murdock could tell his lover was distracted.

“That’s not a real answer,” he pointed out, and Face actually laughed, a beautiful sound even if it was muffled by the thick scarf he had wrapped around his neck and mouth.

“I’m out here because it’s a beautiful morning. _You’re_ out here because you didn’t want to stay in bed by yourself.”

Murdock shivered a little, shifting to put his hands in his pockets. “It was warm in bed, particularly with you in it.” They’d had an energetic evening beneath the blankets, to say the least, and had slept well in their cosy nest. Murdock had hoped the morning would bring more heated indoor activities, preferably beneath those same blankets, but instead – 

“Stop moaning, baby,” Face said. “I promise I’ll warm you up again later.”

But Murdock still couldn’t figure it out. It was early, only an hour or so after dawn, and it was cold, and – 

“You hate being cold,” he stated, and for the first time Face stopped and turned to look at him. Those gorgeous blue eyes Murdock loved were shining happily beneath the wooly hat Face had pulled low over his ears. “You always hate it when it snows.”

“It’s not snowing today.”

Murdock pouted a little, hoping he could convince Face to snuggle him, or even to go back to the cabin, but instead his lover turned away and started walking again over the fields.

“I don’t understand, Face. What are we looking for?”

The morning was clear and crisp, the air still and cold. Face was bundled up to within an inch of his life, in boots and jacket and hat and scarf and gloves all over a number of sweaters and jeans, but normally he’d still be complaining at the top of his lungs. Murdock was wearing fewer layers and he was chilled but not miserably so, just confused. There was nothing out here but fields.

Unless Face had a treasure map he wasn’t sharing.

He was about to ask Face yet again to explain himself, but his lover beat him to it this time, stopping a few steps ahead of Murdock and spreading his arms wide to encompass the fields and the sky and the whole world.

“We aren’t looking for anything,” Face told him softly, lifting his head to the sky. “This is just something I don’t see often; never did, really, not growing up in Southern California.”

Something clicked into place, and Murdock looked at the fields with fresh eyes. Looked at the white gleam on the long grasses, twinkling in the soft morning light, crunching beneath their feet all the while they’d been walking. Looked at the spiders’ webs highlighted in white. 

“The frost?” he asked, and Face nodded. “Really?”

Face shrugged. “You didn’t have to come,” he said again, and Murdock started to feel almost as if he was intruding on something personal, when Face suddenly spun back around with a huge grin and reached back to seize Murdock’s hand. “It’s the first of the year, and it’s beautiful, isn’t it? Just look.”

“I see it,” Murdock whispered with a smile, though really he was seeing his unpredictable lover in yet another new light. Just when he thought he’d figured Face out…

“The novelty will wear off, but I just wanted to go for a walk, then crawl back into bed with you. But you’re here with me instead, which is a far, far better morning.” 

Murdock melted a little as Face pulled him closer for a small kiss. “Let’s go for that walk together then go back to bed,” he suggested with a tilt of his head, and Face nodded once before taking off over the fields again, pulling Murdock along with him.

The ground crunched beneath their feet, and the fields twinkled around them, and the sun rose slowly and steadily overhead. And Face was right; it was beautiful.


	65. A Moment In Time (H/F)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little bit of angst crept back in today, sorry!  
> LB x

Hannibal had never been so relieved in all his life when he finally heard the key turn in the front door. He closed his eyes briefly and took a long, slow breath, though he stayed sitting at the kitchen table, exactly where he’d been for the last hour. 

He listened hard, trying to judge how best to handle the mess he’d made. He knew it would depend on Face, and expected to hear the front door slam then angry footsteps running up the stairs. But instead, the door clicked closed very quietly, and there came the slight jingle of keys being placed gently into the bowl on the dresser in the hall. A long, agonising pause, then finally the sound of light footsteps moving towards the kitchen with steady, measured paces.

“I’m glad you came back.” It wasn’t the opening line he’d planned, though he already knew this was one time when all his plans would be pointless. 

“Where else was I supposed to go?” Face replied as he entered the room, his voice flat and void of all emotion, his features carefully blank. Hannibal watched nervously as the younger man walked across the kitchen and around the table, finally pulling out a chair and sitting directly opposite Hannibal. “I live here, remember?”

Hannibal took another slow breath in and out. “Of course you live here,” he said softly. “But you ran out so fast – ”

“Yeah, well, I didn’t exactly feel welcome.”

“Face, sweetheart, I – ”

“Don’t.” Face held up one hand as if to physically keep Hannibal away, though the table was too wide for them to touch. “I don’t need to hear any apology, or any explanation. I don’t need anything. Can we just forget it happened?”

“I wish I could,” Hannibal whispered, shaking his head, though as Face’s blank mask faded to a look of utter devastation he immediately realised his mistake. Yet another mistake in a long, long list of mistakes. “Not that, Face, not what you said. I wish I could forget how stupid I was when I replied. If I could erase a moment in time forever then it would be that moment when I opened my mouth and didn’t tell you that I – ”

“Don’t,” Face interrupted him again, bright blue eyes starting to swim, and Hannibal could see he was fighting to keep his composure. “You don’t have to say it. I acted like a child when I ran out; I’m the one who should apologise here, not you.”

Hannibal knew better than to get into that, even though he personally felt Face’s reaction had been completely and utterly justified. They wouldn’t get through this if they both kept trying to apologise. “You just caught me off-guard,” he started, twisting his hands together on the table in front of him and watching Face closely. “It was the last thing I expected you to say in that moment.”

“Which moment? The moment where I said I loved you?” 

Hannibal took a breath. “Yes. It wasn’t the reply I expected when I asked if you wanted another cup of coffee.”

But Face wasn’t going to let him off the hook that easily. “Or the moment – the many, many long moments – of painful silence before you finally answered me?”

“Yes. Those moments too.”

“Or even the moment when you finally opened your mouth and said, wait, what was it again?”

“Don’t make me say it again,” Hannibal begged. He squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head, but of course Face kept right on going.

“I said ‘I love you’, and you eventually said ‘I know’.” A soft huff of what could have been laughter. “And you still insist that you’ve never seen the Star Wars trilogy.”

“I haven’t.” Hannibal frowned, confused by Face’s train of thought, and opened his eyes to see those blue eyes had dried up and there was a tiny smile on Face’s lips. “Sweetheart, you have to know that I do lo – ”

“Don’t say it!” Face held his hand back up very quickly. “Not here, and not now. Look, I know you love me; you’ve shown me that you do, every minute of every day since we finally got together. It doesn’t matter when you say the words, or if you never do. Actions speak louder, right?”

“Right.” Hannibal had a million reasons why Face had caught him off-guard that morning, but none of them mattered beyond – “I’m still sorry that I hurt you.”

“I’m sorry I surprised you like that; I just needed to say it, suddenly, out of nowhere. And I’m sorry I ran away.” Face stood up suddenly, and moved around the table to stand behind Hannibal, sliding his arms down around Hannibal’s shoulders in a loose embrace. “So if we’re both sorry, can we forget it now?”

Hannibal reached up and back as much as he could, holding Face with all his strength. “I don’t want to forget it,” he told his lover, holding tighter when Face tried to pull away. “Because it was wonderful hearing what you said. I’m the luckiest man in the world.”

Face relaxed against him and actually leaned around so they could share a slow, lingering kiss. “The feeling’s mutual,” Face whispered against his lips, and just like that the air was clear and Hannibal knew they could move on. 

And he immediately started planning the perfect evening for Face, so he could finally say those three magic little words back.


	66. Dangerous Territory (BA/F)

Murdock and Hannibal had gone to bed nearly an hour ago, yet neither BA nor Face had moved an inch from their places on Hannibal’s battered old sofa, still sitting side by side and touching from shoulders to hips to ankles. They had plenty of space to spread out, but they hadn’t.

BA was very much hyper-aware of the heat between them, both physical and also emotional. For all the money in the world, he couldn’t have named the film playing on the television, but he could describe in precise detail what Face was wearing, from the texture and stitching on his designer jeans to the exact shade of blue of his soft cotton shirt.

It felt risky, sitting together like this, but BA had already decided he wouldn’t be the one to move. He was tucked up in one corner of the sofa while Face was next to him in the middle, leaving acres of space on the cushions beyond; it had made sense when Murdock was sprawled over there earlier, but now…

It felt good, that was the most risky thing. They’d always been close, after the first few difficult days post-Mexico, but recently _close_ had become _closer_. Nothing had happened beyond some thoroughly delicious flirting, which BA knew didn’t count for anything much since Face flirted with everyone, and there had been a few more lingering touches than previously. Face was a tactile person, BA knew that too, but the brotherly back-slaps and brief man-hugs had changed in recent weeks.

Heated fingertips resting on the back of BA’s hand at the dinner table. An arm wrapped around BA’s waist for balance when a single touch would have been enough. A strong hand cupping the nape of BA’s neck, stroking up into his hair and sending shivers down his spine.

And the gazes, oh, BA had always known he could happily drown in Face’s ocean-blue eyes, but recently the eye contact had been hot enough to burn BA to ashes.

Nothing had happened, though, and BA would be lying if he said he hadn’t wondered if it was all in his head. Face loved to flirt. Face was tactile. Why would Face want BA?

Sitting like this, though, just the two of them, this felt as if they were venturing into dangerous territory. BA knew there were a million reasons why falling into bed with a smoking-hot teammate was a bad idea, but with Face’s lean, warm, muscled form pressed so close, it was growing difficult to remember any of them.

BA wanted to touch. He wanted to put his hand on the other man’s denim-clad thigh. He wanted to lean sideways and trust his weight to Face’s strength, and to slip his other hand onto that stubbled jaw. He wanted to see if those full lips were as soft as they looked.

Strangely, he didn’t want to talk. Not that he wanted to just throw Face onto a bed and have at it, though he wouldn’t say no if the night took a turn in that direction, but he wanted to touch and hold and see if the sparks of electricity between them could blossom into a true electrical storm.

Face’s arms were folded loosely over his toned chest, his bare feet flat on the floor. BA found himself stealing sideways glances at the long fingers so close to his body, calloused from years of hard work, and skillful too.

He licked his lips without thinking, then forced himself to sit up straighter, suddenly very aware that he’d been leaning over into Face’s personal space. He turned his attention back to the movie, whatever it was, hoping it would be over soon yet also hoping it would never end.

BA was staring so hard at the television screen that the touch of a hand on his made him startle. He looked down as Face deliberately, slowly, delicately took BA’s hand in his own, entwining their fingers together and holding their joined hands on his own belly. With a slight twist of his body, Face shifted so he could rest his head on BA’s shoulder, and BA barely breathed as Face slid one leg between his own.

“Okay?” Face whispered, sounding oddly nervous to BA’s ears.

“Okay,” BA confirmed softly, smiling as he squeezed Face’s hand tightly and rested his cheek carefully on Face’s curls.


	67. Boundaries (H/F)

It felt like they’d been walking for weeks, though in reality Face knew it was probably more like only thirty hours or so, with a few snatched hour-long power naps along the way while the sun had been at its highest and hottest.

Thank goodness they’d been carrying enough water for their unplanned hike and thank goodness they’d lost the men tracking them very quickly after their flight into the desert. Not that any of those things meant they could relax, not until they were safely within radio distance of the FOB, which would hopefully be sometime shortly after midnight if they kept their current pace.

Still, the temptation to say it was hard to resist.

“Are we there yet?” Face asked somewhat breathlessly, only half-joking, needing to hear something more than the sound of the desert sands crunching endlessly beneath their boots, even if that something was only his own voice.

“That was funny the first twenty times you said it,” Hannibal shot back over his shoulder, without even slowing their pace a fraction. “The next twenty times it was mildly annoying, then the twenty after that it was extremely annoying. I’m giving you fair warning that you’re heading into ‘a shootable offense’ territory.”

Face grinned, able to hear the matching grin in Hannibal’s exhausted voice despite his stern words. “Warning taken,” he replied softly, though the constant drone of wind through the dunes gusted at that moment and he doubted Hannibal had heard him. He raised his voice a fraction to ask, more seriously, “Have we even crossed the border yet?”

To Face’s surprise, Hannibal quickly replied, “About two hours ago.” Hannibal did half-turn then, throwing Face a wink as he added, “I didn’t realise myself at first, not for a fair while.”

“One bit of desert is the same as the next bit,” Face muttered to himself, forcing his weary feet to keep moving as the hot sun climbed ever higher overhead. Every bit of his body ached. He was tired, and hungry, and hot, and sun-burnt, but he was with Hannibal and they were both alive and unhurt. They’d had worse days.

He knew he’d tempted fate by even thinking the thought when suddenly his feet skidded from beneath him on the shifting sands, and he started to go down, swearing under his breath. But Hannibal caught him easily, one strong hand hooked under Face’s elbow and hauling him back up. “I’ve got you, kid.”

“Thanks.” They were moving again immediately, but rather than moving back out in front Hannibal stayed by Face’s side, his hot hand on Face’s arm.

After a while – years, hours, seconds, Face couldn’t really tell – Hannibal casually commented, “Makes you realise how utterly pointless borders really are, doesn’t it? How arbitrary and random all the boundaries are, in the grand scheme of things.”

It was an interesting little thought, but – “That’s a little too philosophical for this level of sleep-deprivation, boss.” Face couldn’t help but marvel at the way Hannibal’s incredible brain worked, though deeper analysis and appreciation would really have to wait until they’d slept, eaten, fucked, and showered, preferably in that exact order.

But of course Hannibal couldn’t be dissuaded.

“We can try to impose order on this beautiful planet of ours, but it’ll never stick. In the great scheme of things, we’re little more than fleas fighting over who owns the dog.”

“There’s an old joke in there somewhere.” One foot in front of the other, that’s all Face had to do, just for another few hours.

“We’re all equal and we’re all equally pointless, at least in the face of this magnificent world.”

Well, that was a cheery thought. “Are you sure you’ve not got heatstroke?”

“Nothing we do is important, therefore _everything_ we do is important.” Hannibal stepped closer and slipped his arm around Face’s shoulders. It was really too hot for quite so much body contact, but Face leaned in to the embrace anyway, letting Hannibal guide his weary feet just for a little while. “Come on, kid, we’re nearly home.”

“Home?” Face managed to pick up his pace at the very thought. “Home would be good. I need a beer. And no more philosophy.”

And Hannibal’s deep belly laugh gave Face the strength to push right on.


	68. Unsettling Revelations (BA/M)

I really wish we weren’t having this conversation, Murdock.

What else do you want to do to pass the time? Sit here in silence until they get the lift working again?

We could always – 

No, we couldn’t, Bosco, though I appreciate the thought. There’s CCTV, remember?

Still, we don’t need to be having this conversation.

You’re the one who’s always going on about how important honesty is in a relationship.

Yeah, but there are some things that shouldn’t ever be said. Or done in the first place, for that matter.

I didn’t think it was a big deal.

Of course it’s a big deal! You used my toothbrush!

Only once! I grabbed it by mistake, and I didn’t realise until after I was done, and I already said I was sorry!

Mistakes happen, I get that. But why did you just put it back in the cup? Why didn’t you tell me?

We kiss all the time, Bosco-baby, we share saliva and – 

– Yuck, fool, do not start talking about sharing saliva – 

– And I figured you wouldn’t mind.

Well, I do mind, Murdock.

And I know that now.

Is there anything else I need to know about?

Well…

Oh no, what other unsettling revelations are you hiding from me?

That’s unfair. I don’t know what you’re going to find unsettling.

Try me.

Do you mean you want to hear about how I sometimes wear your underpants?

What?!

Not every day, I mean, just when I want to feel particularly close to you.

You can feel close to me by asking for a hug, Murdock! Or even a kiss!

And sometimes… no, maybe you don’t want to know that.

I don’t want to know any of this but I do _need_ to know it.

…What if you don’t love me after I tell you?

Aw, man. You know I’ll always love you, even if you do use my toothbrush, and wear my underpants.

Really?

Really. And maybe you’re right, maybe it’s better if I don’t hear anything else today.

You sure? I think this was a good one.

…Go on then.

Sometimes, when we’re in bed, I’ll wake up in the middle of the night and just watch you sleeping for a while.

That’s… a little creepy, but almost sweet, I think?

I just love you, BA Baracus, that’s all.

I just love you too, baby. But maybe honesty isn’t always the best policy after all.

…What was that?!

Just the lift getting started again, Murdock, don’t worry. I told you they’d get it moving again soon.

But I was enjoying our conversation.

At least that makes one of us.


	69. Shattered (Sosa + Face)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tags updated to include Charissa Sosa, and Shattered.
> 
> As soon as I saw this prompt, back when I first read through the list shortly after the UK lockdown began, I started dreading it: I wrote a story called [Shattered](https://archiveofourown.org/works/931829/chapters/1813192), a little over seven years ago now, to a prompt from Ocean_Blue15 on the A-Team Kink Meme over on lj. That story remains the single piece I'm most proud of having written, in any fandom (if that isn't too much of a ridiculous thing to say about fanfiction...) and at the time I'd fully intended to write a sequel, though in hindsight I thought it stood better alone. I think I was also afraid of ruining it.
> 
> Still, I couldn't _not_ write this. It's just a short piece, set seven years after the events of Shattered, and it won't make any sense if you haven't read it. It also contains spoilers, obviously, so please do skip this for now if you intend to read Shattered later.
> 
> This is much more than I usually write in my notes, but I really am nervous about sharing this. I also thought about posting it separately so I could link the two pieces, but maybe it's better that only a handful of readers find this, and I know I've only got a few readers still sticking with this. Forgive me for babbling on.  
> LB x

There were moments when Sosa was sure she had dreamed the whole thing. Her life had moved onwards and upwards, and the world had changed around her, and that part of her life was over, almost as if it had never happened.

Fragments flashed before her eyes, often unexpectedly, making her pause and smile.

The hospital, seeing him for the first time after the accident. Supporting him, defending him, lying for him. Then going into battle for him after he’d been sent back to jail, winning him parole and offering him shelter in her own home. Cheering him from a safe distance as he reunited with his friends and, eventually, his lover.

It really did feel as if it had happened to someone else and, in a way, it had done. It had happened to Face, not to her, though she had certainly been involved. An officer like herself, focused entirely and unashamedly on her career, would surely never have risked so much to help an ex-boyfriend, especially one who had coupled up with his very-male Colonel after their breakup.

But for Face, she had done all that and more, and she didn’t regret a single moment. Apart from, perhaps, the moment he’d been hit by that military jeep in the first place. 

Seven years ago now, almost to the day; Sosa wondered if Face would be marking the day somehow, or if he was choosing to forget it as much as he could. It wasn’t a cause for celebration, it was the anniversary of the day his life had been shattered along with his spine, but it was an important day. It was worth remembering.

Seven years ago now, and Sosa knew that most of the signs Face had ever lived with her were long gone. He’d taken his few pitiful belongings with him when he’d bravely moved from DC to Colorado to be closer to Hannibal in his prison. Not that he’d had much to begin with; years of a life lived on the run hadn’t left him with much.

Sosa had redecorated the bedroom that had belonged to Face, but she’d left the ramp in place, the one that led from her front path up the two steps into her home. It felt wrong to remove it, somehow, just in case Face ever came back to visit.

There wasn’t much chance of that, she knew, but still, the ramp itself was proof that it hadn’t been a dream.

Face had really been there, and Sosa had really helped.

No visits to DC, and it had been a couple of years since she’d last been out to visit her friend, but they still spoke on the phone at least once a week when Sosa was in the country, more often sometimes. Just short conversations, sharing everyday things and small personal victories – her promotion to Lieutenant-Colonel, his latest basketball results – never anything more emotional.

It was enough, though. And they always said ‘I love you’ before they said ‘goodbye’.

Sosa decided to raise a glass of wine when she got home, a toast to friendship and to love. Face and Hannibal were still together, while BA was apparently engaged and Murdock was very happily single. Sosa was currently single herself, which suited her down to the ground – she had long ago accepted that it was perfectly okay to be happy about that.

She had her career, which was all she’d ever wanted growing up. She’d never dreamed of the Big Wedding with the Handsome Groom and the Perfect Family. She’d dreamed of the Big Office in the Pentagon, and she had that already. She’d dreamed of being important and making decisions and saving lives, and she’d dreamed of being a General one day, a goal that was finally within reach. 

Still, Face’s friendship was worth more than she could ever tell him, though he probably knew already, as clever as he was. It was good to know there was someone else out there who cared about what happened to her, beyond her family and her small but intimate circle of DC friends.

Sometimes life turned out exactly the way someone wanted, and Sosa knew she was one of the lucky ones. Sometimes life went in completely the opposite direction, just as it had done for Face – and for his team, of course, going all the way back to Iraq and the plates debacle – but Face had still landed on his feet, figuratively speaking, and had ended up with exactly what he’d really wanted all along.

Face had only ever wanted to be loved, though Sosa knew her friend would never admit that. Face had Hannibal, who had gone to prison for him and moved heaven and earth to keep him happy now in their new lives.

Hannibal had barely spoken to Sosa since his release, beyond a few carefully polite conversations, and that was fine. But he had said ‘thank you’ to her, a week or so after his return home to Face, something he’d hinted at when they’d first met up at that diner not long after he’d learned Face was alive. Sosa hadn’t done it for Hannibal, but his appreciation and gratitude meant a lot.

A glass of wine wouldn’t be enough, Sosa decided. A bottle, at least, and a box of her favourite chocolates too. And perhaps she should give Face a quick call, just to say a simple ‘hello’.


	70. Bitter Silence (M/F)

“It’s so quiet, isn’t it?” 

“Yeah, it is.” Face sighed contentedly, half-dozing on the lounger with Murdock curled up against his side. “It’s nice.”

And it really _was_ nice. An actual holiday, for once, in a cabin by the edge of a lake. Just the two of them, which certainly helped with the quiet. No television, no radio, no phone signal – the closest thing to camping Face could stand when he wasn’t in uniform or serving his country. 

The sun was setting slowly over the lake, and there wasn’t a breath of wind. It was beautiful and relaxing, exactly what they both needed after a hard few months of missions, and Face was honestly fighting to keep his eyes open. Lying there on the cushions he felt every muscle and bone fall limp, and with his lover a warm weight against his side, he figured it was entirely fine to just fall asl-

“It’s a peaceful kind of quiet, isn’t it?” Murdock’s words were barely more than a whisper, but they sounded painfully loud in Face’s ear. “A silence, like the world is on pause.”

“Huh?” he managed, blinking his eyes back open.

Murdock shifted a little, lifting his head and resting his sharp, pointy chin on Face’s chest. “I mean, sometimes you get a sort of ominous silence, right? Like when something is brewing.” 

“Like a storm?” 

“I guess, or a fight maybe, or just an awkward atmosphere.” Murdock fell silent again, and Face’s eyes started to slip closed, almost without his permission, until his lover spoke again. “And then there’s the sort of silence that feels really final. Like when someone’s died.”

Face roused himself enough to ask, “Murdock, baby, do you remember that we’re on holiday?” 

“Of course! Look at the beautiful lake, and the beautiful sunset, and it’s just so beautifully peaceful.”

“So do we have to be talking about people dying?”

Murdock huffed a soft laugh. “We were talking about different types of silence, not people dying.”

“If you say so, sweetheart.” The faint sounds of water lapping at the edges of the lake reached Face’s ears, and he settled back as Murdock shifted yet again to rest his ear over Face’s heart. 

This silence was too good to last, though.

“You can have a baffled silence, where no one knows what to say and it’s really awkward. Or a bitter silence, when you’re really aware that the other person isn’t happy. A sober silence, where there’s time to pause and to think, or a dumb silence when no one knows anything at all, or maybe – ”

Face gave into temptation and slipped one hand over his lover’s mouth, stopping the flow of words with a frustrated sigh. “Murdock, sweetheart, baby, love of my life, how about we just enjoy the silence rather than analysing it?”

A brief pause, then Murdock nodded, eyes shining in the fading sunlight. Face lifted his head and pulled his hand away from his lover’s lips, just in time to capture those same lips in a gentle kiss before they could start speaking again.


	71. The True You (Mama B + BA/M, H/F)

“Mama? Can we talk?”

She’s not surprised when her baby makes the request, and she quickly finishes drying the last of the dishes, placing the tea towel back on the hook before turning to face her son. “Of course we can, Scooter. What’s on your mind?”

He looks nervous and uncomfortable, standing there in the kitchen doorway, his wide, muscular shoulders hunched up a little and his dark eyes flickering all around the room as if they can’t quite meet her gaze. She frowns, heart aching for her boy; he’s not been himself since he arrived on her doorstep earlier that day, though she’s held her tongue so far, letting him speak in his own time, if he needs to speak at all. 

“I told you I’d do the dishes later, Mama.” He shakes his head as he crosses to sit at the table, a glimmer of a smile appearing on his lips for a second. 

“And I told you it wouldn’t take me a minute,” she replies immediately, pulling out a chair to sit opposite him. “You had a long drive, and you’re supposed to let me spoil you while you’re here.”

He sighs heavily, shaking his head, and she feels her heart beat faster. “You’re incredible, Mama, and I love you. You know that, right?”

“Scooter, baby, you’re scaring me a little,” she confesses, and she reaches out to take his huge hands over the table, though to her surprise he pulls back out of reach. “I love you too, and there’s nothing you can tell me that will ever change that.”

Is it work? Something that happened on a mission, perhaps, haunting her son. It wouldn’t be the first time that he or one of her other boys has suffered. Or something personal, more likely. Is he ill? 

She studies her boy closely, trying to resist the urge to swap chairs so she can sit by his side. To her eyes he looks healthy and well, his eyes a little too bright perhaps, but his skin clear and shiny and his hair styled as neatly as ever. 

He seems to sense her scrutiny and squirms a bit, still not quite meeting her eyes. “I’m okay, Mama,” he tells her. “It’s nothing like that.”

“Then what is it like?” she asks softly.

He takes a deep breath before answering with a shrug. “It’s just something I need to tell you, something I figure I should’ve told you a long time ago.”

“There’s nothing you ever need to tell me.”

“This, I do.” And finally he does look directly at her, his gorgeous eyes deep pools of mixed emotions. She’s never been able to read him easily, not since his early teens, and she has no clue what he’s thinking in this moment. “I do need to tell you this, Mama.”

So she smiles at him, pouring all her love into it. “Then tell me, baby.”

He pauses again, licks his lips. “You know how Hannibal and Face are together?” 

That wasn’t remotely what she expected her boy to say, not that she really has any idea what’s on his mind. “Of course I do. Are they okay?” The idea that the colonel and his lieutenant might have broken up fills her with a sharp pain; they’ve always been such a strong couple, completely and utterly in love with each other.

“They’re fine. But, well… Mama, me and Murdock, well…” Her only son squirms in his seat, meaty hands squeezing into fists, and to her surprise a distinct blush starts to spread over his cheeks.

Ah. She wondered if he’d ever be brave enough to tell her.

“About time,” she says with a smile, ducking her head to try and catch his eyes. “I always wondered about the two of you.”

“What?” he gasps, obviously surprised. “You… wondered?”

She shrugs, trying hard to stay casual and desperately hoping she isn’t making a mess of this. “You’ve always seemed close, to me. And I suspected all that bickering might be a cover for an attraction of some kind. I was just never sure if either of you were aware of it.”

“So, you knew, about me, that I…” Her baby boy stops, shaking his head in obvious frustration with himself, before finally saying it. “Mama, I’m bi.”

And she finally reaches out to snatch one of his hands, holding it close in both of her own. She speaks slowly, clearly, her heart so full it could almost burst. “Bosco Albert Baracus, I love you very much, whoever you fall in love with. Thank you for trusting me enough to show me the true you. But yes, I’ve known for years, or suspected, at least.”

“Years?” he sounds stunned, though she can practically see the tension falling from his shoulders.

“Well, I know you had girlfriends when you were living under my roof, but I always wondered about you and that Todd boy when you were a senior, and you used to linger outside very obviously when that handsome Mr Jameson would mow his lawn without his shirt on.” It had been quite a glorious sight; she’d always watched from the upstairs window, herself, preferably with a small glass of wine in hand.

Her Scooter huffs a surprised laugh, entwining his fingers with hers. “Mama, you’re amazing. You really don’t mind?”

“It’s not my place to mind or not mind. This is who you are, and you are my son, and I love you. And I’m so glad you told me.” Love is love, as far as she’s concerned, and there’s little enough of it in the world as it is. “So, you and Murdock then? How’s that going?”

And he squirms again, exactly as predicted, and it’s her turn to laugh. “I don’t think you want details, Mama,” he mutters, that blush deepening quite beautifully. He’s a handsome boy, her son, and it’s no wonder Murdock has fallen for him. “But it’s going good, thanks. It’s new.”

That’s as much as she suspects she’ll get this evening, and it’s more than she ever thought she’d get from her quiet child. “Why don’t I make us some tea?” she suggests, standing from the table with a final squeeze of his hand, letting him off the hook for now. 

She can work on pulling out more details tomorrow. Maybe she’ll have a son-in-law one day soon, and grandbabies, and – she’s getting ahead of herself. But a Mama can always dream.


	72. Pretense (H/F)

You are, without a shadow of a doubt, the Great Pretender. It’s not a role you ever set out to inhabit, not something you pursued or chased or lusted after, but here you are anyway. Pretending.

Not all the time, no. In your professional life, for the most part, you are genuine and hardworking. You pride yourself on your integrity, your trustworthiness, and your leadership. You try to be the model soldier though you are painfully aware that you fall short at times.

The Rangers gave you a home, and gave you a chance you still aren’t sure you deserved. It’s only fair that you give them everything you have in return.

You bend the rules, though. You ruffle some feathers. You pull a few tricks, a few scams, sure, but you only ever do it for the Greater Good. Sometimes, in your grander, loftier moments, you like to think of yourself as some sort of modern-day Robin Hood, though in reality you often feel like little more than a petty criminal.

Still, the Rangers are your home and your family, and you are proud of what you’ve achieved with them. Your team are the best of the best, all as insanely brilliant as you know you are, and yet.

You’re still pretending.

Some days it’s easy. The pretense comes without a single thought, as automatic as breathing, and you don’t even think how you’re almost wearing a cloak to hide your true self. Those days are simple, carefree, even if you’re ducking bullets in the middle of a warzone or freezing in the desert night or just lying in the team tent listing to him breathing, close by.

Other days it’s difficult. You have to remind yourself every single second not to reach out and touch, even when he’s right there by your side, throwing an arm around your shoulders or casually leaning against your side when you all sit by the fire.

So you have to channel your skills elsewhere. You plan and you plot and you use your powers for Good not Evil. On the difficult days, oddly, you think you come up with your best ideas. It’s the focus needed, perhaps, to distract yourself.

He’s not inspiring you, no, that would be crazy. And you’re not trying to impress him.

He isn’t the first temptation you’ve come across in the Rangers, but he’s certainly the hardest to resist. The eyes and the body, yes, but so much more than that. The brain and the soul and the big, big heart.

You can’t risk everything you’ve fought for. So you pretend not to feel what you feel. A lifetime of practise has finally come into play, a lifetime of learning tricks and surviving when all the odds have always been against you.

It’s not Life and Death, even though it might feel that way.

But, still, you have to wonder, in the dark of the night when you can hear his soft breathing close by.

You know he’s a Great Pretender too. It takes one to know one, after all.

So you simply can’t stop yourself wondering, What If?

What If he feels the same way?

What If the two of you are really meant for each other?

What If this could be Love?

You’ll never know, not unless one of you makes the first move, and you know that it can’t be you. So for now you’ll just keep pretending, wondering all the while if Face is pretending too.

And if he is?

Perhaps one day you’ll both be brave enough to finally let all the pretenses stop.


	73. Patience (BA/F)

“Can we talk?” BA waited until Face nodded before gesturing at the chair opposite with a wave of his hand. “Thanks, man.”

“You okay?” Face looked a little worried and a little nervous as he sat, running a hand back through his hair in a gesture that BA recognised as Face’s form of self-comfort.

He tried to smile, though he knew it fell a little flat. “Just wanted to get a few things straight,” he said slowly, carefully. “Figured it was time.”

Face frowned slightly, bright blue eyes darkening a little, and BA felt his heart skip a beat as Face asked again, “Are you okay? What’s happened?”

“I’m good, man, it’s all good. I just…” BA paused, taking a huge breath in then releasing it slowly, wondering if this had been such a good idea after all. He’d agonised over this for days now. He’d thought it was the best way to move forwards, but perhaps… “I’m not good at this,” he admitted softly.

“Good at what?” Face was sitting so still, watching BA closely, head tilted to one side. “Bosco, it’s me. You can say anything to me.” 

“Why have you been flirting with me?” Well, okay, that was more direct than BA had intended, and he mentally cursed himself for being such a fool.

Face just smiled, though, some of the tension melting from his broad shoulders. “Have I been flirting with you?” he asked.

“You know you have been. Were you just doing it because you can, because you like to practise, or were you doing it because – ”

“I’ve been doing it because I like you.” Face’s cheeks coloured in an obvious and delicious blush, though he didn’t even blink, holding BA’s gaze steadily. “I can stop if it makes you uncomfortable. The flirting, I mean. I don’t think I can stop liking you.”

BA’s heart was racing. “I like you too, Face,” he managed to say, feeling a blush heating his own cheeks, though he hoped it wouldn’t show.

“Thought so,” Face said with a small nod. “I mean, there was a chance I might’ve been wrong, but I thought so. I hoped so.”

BA hadn’t felt like this in years, giddy and nervous and excited. The connection he felt with this man was strong, intense. It was physical, yes, but it was also so much more than that.

He took a deep breath before continuing, trying to calm his heart, and steeling himself. “There’s something you should know,” he said slowly. “Something I need to explain.”

“You don’t owe me any explanations,” Face said immediately.

“Maybe I need to say it.” BA waited for Face’s nod before continuing. “I have to ask you to be gentle with me. To have some patience.”

Face’s brow furrowed fractionally. “Did you think I was going to push you against a wall and have my wicked way with you?”

“No, no. Of course not. But…” BA closed his eyes, hating how badly he was getting this wrong. He couldn’t help seeing brown eyes instead of blue, black hair instead of caramel. “It’s been a while,” he whispered eventually.

“Someone hurt you,” Face murmured; a statement not a question. He was always the perceptive one in their team. “I’m so sorry.”

BA shook his head. “There was no drama. He just left. He thought he had to. It’s been years, but I still…” He bit his tongue, forced his eyes open, meeting the other man’s bright blue gaze head on. “I want to move on. And I do like you.”

“There’s no rush. No pressure, I promise, not from me.” Face sounded as open and as honest as BA had ever heard him. “I can back right off. Maybe I _should_ back off.”

“No, don’t. Just – ”

“Be patient.” Face smiled, reaching over to take BA’s hand loosely in his own, and the sparks of electricity between them were incredible. “I can absolutely do that. We take things at your pace, every step of the way, however long it takes. And I have a feeling this will be worth the wait.”

BA was surprised to feel the sting of tears at the backs of his eyes. “The best things always are.”


	74. Midnight (H/F)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one can be read as a completely stand-alone piece, or as a little sequel to [Expecting](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14173881/chapters/32671422), which was my AU of an AU in the [Impregnable](https://archiveofourown.org/series/866229) series.
> 
> Hope everyone is keeping safe and well!  
> LB x

“There you are, Hannibal.” BA’s voice was barely more than a whispered breath but Hannibal still flinched at the unexpected sound. “What are you doing up?”

“She’s asleep,” Hannibal whispered back, though he didn’t take his eyes from Emily’s peaceful face. His three-week-old daughter was cradled up against his naked chest, her tiny huffs of breath barely tickling his skin, and she felt so tiny there, surrounded by his own huge hands. 

Soft footsteps, bare feet on thick carpet, as BA moved closer across the nursery. “It’s nearly midnight,” he murmured.

Hannibal just shook his head, dropping a gentle kiss on Emily’s head. “I know. But she’s asleep.”

“She should be sleeping in her bassinet,” BA pointed out, and Hannibal could hear the faint smile in his friend’s words. “You’re gonna regret it if she gets used to sleeping in your arms.”

“It won’t hurt. Not at this stage.” Hannibal knew BA probably had a point – he’d read all the parenting books he could get his hands on, as well as lurking on internet forums and discussion boards – but he also knew he couldn’t put his daughter down just yet. “Just a little longer.”

But BA was nothing if not persistent. “You should be asleep.”

“I know,” Hannibal whispered, inhaling the sweet, sweet baby powder scent of his only child’s skin.

“You should be sleeping when she’s sleeping.” BA rested one hand on Hannibal’s shoulder, squeezing gently. “Face is sleeping.”

“Face is still recovering.” It was a fair point, though, and Hannibal knew he should be snatching every moment of rest he could, tucked up by his husband’s side. Emily was an easy baby so far, but she was still a baby, who demanded feeding and filled her diaper with an alarming frequency; she’d be awake soon enough, screaming her lungs out to summon them to her side. 

Still, he didn’t make a single move to climb out of the rocking chair, hypnotised by the presence of this tiny new life who depended on him and her Daddy for everything. 

“She’s beautiful,” BA whispered after a few minutes had slipped by. “Damn, man, she’s just so beautiful.” 

Hannibal’s heart filled with pride. Of course he knew that his daughter was the single most beautiful baby to ever have been born, but to hear it from someone else… Emily was truly gorgeous, with her wispy brown hair and her pudgy little cheeks, and her cute little button nose. “If I didn’t know it was impossible, then I’d swear she has her Dad’s eyes.”

BA chuckled softly, though he stopped immediately when Hannibal hushed him. “All babies have blue eyes, boss,” he pointed out.

“I know, but still…” Hannibal kissed Emily again, freezing immediately when she squirmed in his arms, her tiny hands balling into fists. He barely breathed for what felt like hours until she finally settled again.

“Let her sleep, Papa,” BA whispered, the new name still sending a thrill through Hannibal’s entire body. “Put her down in her own bed, she’ll be okay, I promise. Then go sleep in _your_ own bed, with your husband.”

Hannibal was, admittedly, exhausted. He wasn’t exactly a young man, and becoming a father was a huge shock to the system, in spite of all his planning and preparations. He wouldn’t change a thing, and he couldn’t believe how lucky he was, but he really was exhausted.

“Alright,” he murmured eventually, accepting BA’s strong hand cupping his elbow to help him get to his feet without disturbing his baby daughter. Still staring down at Emily’s sleeping head, he took the two necessary steps across the nursery and lowered her into her crib, handling her as gingerly as he had ever handled a landmine or IED, until finally she was down. “She’s still asleep.”

“Told you she’d be okay.” BA had moved to the doorway, and he waited until Hannibal had stroked the backs of his fingers over Emily’s peach-soft cheek before adding, “Come on, now. Bed time.”

And after making sure the baby monitor was switched on, because it never hurt to triple-check, Hannibal reluctantly left the nursery and his sleeping child, to return to his sleeping husband.


	75. Shadows (gen)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> An angsty little piece today, rather than something light and fluffy. Been one of those weeks. Will do better next time!  
> LBx

Murdock waits patiently until the time is right before he says anything. He knows, better than almost anyone in the world, that if he gets the timing wrong by even a second then Face will brush him off with a smile and a laugh.

He has a nasty feeling deep in his gut that this is too important to be brushed side.

Nearly a week he waits, until finally he sees a faint glimmer of opportunity. Face is sitting alone in the yard of their current safe house, slumped down on a bench with his head in his hands, and he clearly believes he’s alone. He was, until Murdock slipped away early and headed home hopefully.

Murdock keeps his steps light as he approaches, not wanting Face to run but also knowing not to creep up on a fully trained and dangerous Ranger. “Facey?” he calls softly. “You okay there?”

Predictably, Face straightens up immediately, though Murdock knows it’s significant that his friend doesn’t rush to stand up. 

“I’m fine, buddy. You’re back early?”

It’s half a question, but one that Murdock chooses to ignore as he drops lightly down onto the bench by Face’s side. In the late afternoon light, he can see all too clearly the signs that have been worrying him for weeks – the unnatural pallor on tanned skin, the shadows beneath red-rimmed eyes, the hunched shoulders that are usually held so proudly.

“Face, what’s going on with you?” he asks softly yet directly, leaning forwards slightly to hold his friend’s gaze when Face tries to look away.

“Nothing, Murdock. I don’t know what you mean.”

Murdock snorts, braces his elbows on his knees as Face, consciously or not, mimics his pose. “Don’t give me that. Don’t lie to me.”

For a second he wonders if he’s gone too far too fast, as Face bristles, hands clenching into fists. But in the next second, Murdock understands he’s chosen his timing perfectly as his friend visibly deflates, head hanging low as he accepts the inevitable.

“I’m just tired,” Face says, his words little more than a faint exhalation.

“We’re all tired,” Murdock points out, and it’s true, they are; Hannibal’s been working them hard over the last few months, saying they have to take the work when it’s on offer. “Seems like more than just being tired for you.”

Face shakes his head slightly. “It’s not more. It’s just… I’m tired, and I’m tired all the time, even when I wake up. It’s really nothing more. Maybe I’m getting old. Or I just need a holiday, I guess.” He huffs a half-hearted laugh that doesn’t fool Murdock for a second.

“You’re having trouble sleeping?” 

“No, I’m out like the dead as soon as my head hits the pillow.” 

Murdock remembers how Face had turned in not long after nine last night, then not come down that morning until nearly ten for breakfast. “You really slept more than twelve hours last night?”

Face shrugs. “Didn’t feel like it.”

“You feel sick?”

“Not really. Not… not like that.”

“You think you should see a doctor?”

At that, Face laughs loudly, running a hand back through his hair. “Not really an option for us, is it?” The fact that he doesn’t dismiss the idea out of hand fills Murdock with a growing sense of dread.

He slides a little closer, resting one hand lightly on his friend’s knee. “There’s always that doctor we met,” he suggests quietly. “Maggie. She said she’d help if we ever needed anything.”

Face pauses for a long time, so long that Murdock fears he’s lost him. “What am I supposed to tell Hannibal?”

Actually, Murdock is sure Hannibal has already seen the same things Murdock has spotted. The fact that their wily colonel arranged this cosy safe house himself, rather than relying on Face, suggests he’s trying to help in his own way.

But Face won’t want to hear that. Won’t want to think he’s been seen, won’t want to worry that they all think less of him for having a moment of weakness.

“I could say it was me who needs to see her.” Murdock shrugs then, when Face turns to stare of him with those achingly tired eyes. “If you didn’t want to tell him, I mean.”

“I’d never ask you to lie for me.” Face sounds horrified at the very idea, but Murdock would do as much and more for his brother.

Instead of saying that, though, he tells Face firmly, “It’s not a sign of weakness to admit you need some help. You’ve told me that time and again over the years. Do you really believe that or were you just lying to me?”

It’s a tipping point. He holds his breath as Face squeezes his eyes shut for a moment, waiting to see which way his friend will go, and then Face takes a deep breath, tilts his head towards the sky, and breathes, “I think I need some help.”


	76. Summer Haze (H/F)

It still felt completely unreal to actually be there, almost as if they’d walked right out of a dream and back in time somehow. Back to an earlier age, a time of Kings and legends, a time of myths and magic.

“Wow,” Face breathed, not for the first time, hands on his hips as he gazed out at the incredible view, having to squint just a little even through his dark sunglasses. “This feels insane.”

“It’s something special, isn’t it?” Hannibal’s voice was filled with the same sense of awe that Face was feeling.

Face took a deep breath, wanting to turn to Hannibal but finding it impossible to look away from the summer haze hiding the distant horizon, far beyond the low rolling green hills and glimpses of narrow winding roads. “Do you really believe all the legends?” he asked over his shoulder. “That this is the resting place of King Arthur? Or Avalon? Or the Holy Grail”

Strong yet tender hands slid around his waist, and Face found himself pulled back into Hannibal’s loving embrace, back to firm chest, as his lover dropped his chin to Face’s shoulder. “There’s definitely a magic in the air,” Hannibal replied. “Can’t you feel it?”

Face nodded slowly, feeling the breeze ruffle his hair and smelling the scent of freshly-mown grass, mingled with faint traces of farmyard animals. Somewhere in the distance there was the hum of a tractor, and the occasional butterfly floated by, but there really was something magical about standing on top of this hill, in this place, by the side of this ruined building.

This hadn’t been the holiday he’d expected when Hannibal had announced they were stealing away together for a week on their way back from Iraq to the States. He’d expected a luxury hotel somewhere by a beach in the south of France or Italy, or a city break in Paris or Berlin with museums and theatres close by. He hadn’t expected a cottage in the south west of England, apparently belonging to an old friend of Hannibal’s, and a week of hiking through green fields and discovering old monuments with more history than anything he’d ever seen back home. The sun had shone every day, which was apparently pretty rare for England, and Face had found himself loving every second of it.

But Glastonbury Tor really did beat everything. 

“Thank you,” he heard himself say, and Hannibal pressed warm lips to his neck in a soft kiss. 

“For what?”

For a moment, Face struggled to articulate what he was feeling. “For bringing me here. For showing me there are still surprises out there in the world.”

Hannibal chuckled, arms squeezing tighter around Face’s waist. “You’ve not seen anything yet, kid.”

“You haven’t called me that in years.” Face smiled, shivering slightly as the sun dipped behind a lonely white cloud; it was sunny, yes, but still not as warm as he would’ve preferred. “I missed that.”

“You’d rather I call you ‘kid’ than ‘love’ or ‘sweetheart’?” Another chuckle. “Well, whatever you want!”

“No, no, I didn’t mean that!” He tried to turn but Hannibal’s arms kept him pinned in place, and he settled back to looking across the green fields beneath the light blue summer sky. He sighed happily. “This is nice.”

“It is, isn’t it? And you just wait ‘til you see what I’ve got planned for the rest of the afternoon.”

Face half-turned as Hannibal straightened up behind him, arms loosening. “There’s more?” 

“I thought we’d walk down into the town and find a proper English tea room.” Hannibal’s voice lowered until it was so deep Face could almost feel it in his bones. “Warm scones with fresh clotted cream and strawberry jam.”

As amazing as the view was, and as magical as the whole place was, Face grinned. “Now that’s a plan I can get behind!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you'd like to learn a little more about Glastonbury Tor then please do [take a look at the National Trust website](https://www.nationaltrust.org.uk/glastonbury-tor).
> 
> LB x


	77. Memories (H/F + BA/F)

They don’t have many photographs. A few albums with a handful of prints between them; not much to show for four men with a lifetime of memories.

There are official portraits, of course. Those they have in abundance. Regimental line-ups, promotion ceremonies, wedding photography. Each of them smiling, poised in position, or looking serious and professional, each of them the centre of attention at least once.

The official portraits survived, of course, saved in equally official files, but they have little else to show for their lives together. Even their lives before the army are only recorded in small ways. BA has the most, naturally, his proud Mama with her albums full of family snapshots. Murdock has some, Hannibal less, and Face almost none.

Their lives in the Ranger were marked mostly by black ops – unofficial, off-the-record, and covered up. No cameras, not even in base camps, leaving them nothing to show for their time and effort.

Nothing except a few forbidden photos that shouldn’t even exist.

A young Hannibal, grinning into the camera, light brown hair shining and blue eyes full of dreams and hopes and plans. The edges of the photo are charred and the surface creased, as if it had been carried around in someone’s wallet.

A series of instant pictures of BA and Murdock wearing wild face paint, all the colours of the rainbow. They’d been taken not long after they’d first met, by a fellow soldier with a polaroid camera, on a sunny day with little to do, and they’d laughed and laughed.

There are none of Face alone, no candid snapshots or shirtless poses. But there are two of him with Hannibal, the first when he is clearly little more than a teenager, and the second taken not long before the plates disaster. In both, he is looking not at the camera but at Hannibal, unguarded and undisguised love in his eyes.

Then, for a long and unbearable period of time, they have no photos at all. Life on the run didn’t lend itself to taking pictures, though they all have their memories, of course, both good and bad. It had been difficult and dangerous but they’d stayed together and loved together and made good memories whenever they could.

After more than a decade living as fugitives, they’d been pardoned, unexpectedly and with little fanfare, and they had kept one single photo from that day. It’s the only candid snap they have of all four of them together, taken by a stranger as they’d embraced on the courtroom steps, and later posted online.

It shows them all tangled together in a tight knot, heads pressed together and arms wrapped around each other’s shoulders. Face is next to Hannibal is next to Murdock is next to BA, an infinite loop of love and relief.

And then, freedom, of a sort. A strange sort of infamy, the difficult adjustment to normal life, and not many pictures taken or liked or kept. As they settled into what was really a retirement, they’d never picked up the habit of keeping a camera to hand, so outside of the formal portraits taken at Hannibal and Face’s wedding then, a year later, BA and Murdock’s wedding, they never really added much to the slim albums they’d cherished.

Not until they’d adopted their babies, at least, and the second generations have their own multiple albums, lovingly curated and proudly scrapbooked.

All their memories will stay with them always, especially now, as they are all increasingly aware of the passage of time. Hannibal and Face are grandparents now, while BA and Murdock will join the club in another month or so. None of them could ever have predicted how their lives would turn out, but the few photos they do have prove that it’s all been real, and very much worthwhile.


	78. Change In The Weather (BA/F)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry readers, another slightly angsty one today. I'm determined to get back to something fluffy and cheerful next time, I promise!  
> LB x

“You have to take the rough with the smooth.”

“Well, aren’t you just Mister Cliché this evening? Thought I was meant to be the smooth talker with the silver tongue in this team.”

“You know you love what I can do with my tongue.”

Face couldn’t help but giggle then, though that probably wasn’t the response BA was looking for, given the slightly offended look that appeared on his lover’s face. “Sorry, sorry,” Face apologised quickly, swallowing down his laughter before leaning closer to steal a kiss, and glad beyond words when BA responded. “Wasn’t expecting you to say that!”

“Figured we could use a change of topic,” BA said softly, sliding a hand over Face’s hip and stroking gently. They lay facing each other on the same narrow camp bed, both utterly naked yet both soft and relaxed, content in each other’s company. “Things were getting serious for a minute there.”

“Things _are_ serious,” Face pointed out, but BA huffed a breath.

“It’ll be what it’ll be, baby. We can’t change things now.”

“I just wish we knew. I don’t want to wait.”

BA smiled at him, though it was a little, lopsided affair. “We’ll find out first thing in the morning. Not long now. But I don’t really want to know at all.”

For a long moment they just looked at each other, and Face found himself getting lost in those dark eyes he loved so much. “I don’t want things to change,” he whispered, suddenly feeling a little choked as reality started to weigh heavily on him once more.

“It’s another cliché, but change is inevitable.” BA’s hand was still resting on Face’s hip, his skin warm and dry, his touch reassuring and grounding. “Like night changing into day, or sunshine changing to rain. Then changing back again.”

Face squeezed his eyes shut, pushing his cheek down into the thin pillow. “I like sunshine,” he said, perhaps pointlessly, and it was BA’s turn to laugh.

“You appreciate the sun more when it’s been raining for a while, though.” Face shook his head but BA insisted, “Come on, you know I’m right.”

“So is this the stormy part?” Face asked, cracking one eye open to see his lover watching him closely, only a few inches away. “Is this the rain before the sun?”

BA slid his hand up from Face’s hip to curve around his ribs instead, and Face let himself be coaxed a little closer, the camp bed creaking a little beneath their combined weights. “Could be,” BA whispered, sounding a little choked himself. “Could be this is a big change in the weather. It’s been sunny for a while now. Could be this is a hurricane, or a twister maybe.”

“I think I left my umbrella and waterproofs at home.”

“So we’ll get wet.”

“Will we get blown apart?”

“Not a chance.” BA kissed Face again, and Face unfolded his hands from where he’d been holding them close against his chest, reaching out and around his lover’s muscular bulk until they were completely entwined together. “I’ve got you,” BA said firmly. “And I won’t let you go.”

“How long until the sun comes out again?” Face knew it was pointless to ask, and he knew there was no answer, but BA answered him anyway.

“I don’t know, sweetheart. But you can be positive that it will come out again eventually. And those first rays on your face will feel so sweet after all the waiting, I promise.”


	79. Illogical (BA/M)

Maybe Spock had the right idea after all.

How do you mean, Bosco?

The whole ‘having no emotion’s thing. Not feeling anything, just thinking.

Being ‘logical’?

Yeah, I guess. He’s never going to get his heart broken.

You don’t think he was really in love with Kirk?

…I always figured McCoy, actually. They definitely had a love-hate relationship going on.

And we’d know all about that, right?

Right, Murdock. 

But if you think he was in love with Kirk, or McCoy, or someone, anyone, then he did have feelings after all.

Well, I guess he was half-human. So maybe he had half the emotions.

So he could fall in love but not get his heart broken? That’s pretty illogical, big man.

I guess love isn’t really logical.

Is anything about life logical?

You’re getting a bit philosophical now, baby.

You started it! …Do you really believe it would be easier to walk through life without feeling anything?

Would hurt less, when things go wrong, you can’t deny that.

By the same logic, though, the highs would feel less high. Or, more accurately, the highs would feel like nothing at all, like just another day.

Feelings are exhausting.

Yeah, but you gotta take the good with the bad to get the to the amazing. It’s all worth it in the end, and the positives outweigh the negatives.

You really believe that?

What you’re really asking is if the crazy man who feels too much can truly believe it’s better to feel everything than to feel nothing?

You know I didn’t mean it like that, baby.

It’s okay, big guy. You did mean it like that, and it’s a logical question.

So is there a logical answer?

I think you already know the answer.

I think you’re right. I think it would be horrible to live in a world without love.

So, what triggered this little philosophical conversation? Apart from the fact that we’ve been binge-watching TOS.

Nothing.

Bosco, don’t lie to me.

I guess… I just love you so damn much that it scares me. And I don’t know what I’d do if you left me, or if something happened, and that scares me too.

I love you too. And I’m never going to leave you.

Doing what we do, you might not have that choice.

No, I do have a choice. And I’ll never leave you. Even if I die, I’ll haunt you all the time, and you’ll never be able to get rid of me. But you’ll wish you could!

…How do you always know exactly what to say to cheer me up?

I just love you, is all. Now, do you want to carry straight on into TNG?

I do indeed. Just promise me we’ll skip over Voyager after DS9.

Come on, you know Seven was sexy! And I know you have a secret thing for Chakotay and his tattoo…


	80. Only Human (H/F)

“Stop sulking, you big baby.” Face was trying hard to stay serious and be a suitably sympathetic partner, but it was growing increasingly difficult the longer he looked at Hannibal sitting awkwardly in his armchair, leg propped up on cushions resting on the coffee table.

“I'm not sulking,” Hannibal muttered, though the glower on his face spoke differently, and his eyes were stormy.

“Yes, you are.” As much as he wanted to try to sooth his man, Face kept his distance and stayed sitting on the sofa instead, unsure how Hannibal would cope with being touched when he was this prickly. “Accidents happen. And you'll heal up quickly enough.”

“That's not the point.” Hannibal actually huffed like a frustrated child and folded his arms tightly across his chest, glaring at the wall.

Face just bit his lip and tried not to laugh. “It's just a sprained knee, sweetheart,” he tried, glancing at the crutches resting against the side of Hannibal's chair. “You've had worse.”

“That's not the point,” Hannibal said again.

“So you got drunk at you fell down some stairs. You aren't the first and you won't be the last.” Face dearly wished he'd been there to see it; the first he'd known of his lover's drunken tumble had been a call from the base hospital. “So stop sulking.”

“I just...” A huge sigh and another huff. “It shouldn't have happened.”

A faint suspicion surfaced in the back of Face’s mind. “You mean that it shouldn't've happened to _you_ , because you're better than that.”

At Face's words, Hannibal turned his head at last and glared at him, and Face knew he'd hit the nail on the head.

He slipped off the sofa and crossed the room to kneel by Hannibal's side, resting a hand gently on that bandaged knee. “Do you have any idea how much I love you, you big idiot?” he said softly, and to his relief it startled a laugh out of Hannibal, though the frown stayed in place.

“Kid, I just - ”

“No, you just listen to me for a moment, Hannibal Smith. Sometimes you can be pretty ridiculous, you know?” Face took a deep breath, shook his head fondly. “You hold yourself to such a high standard, and you're right, you're amazing at everything you try.”

Hannibal smiled, a wide smile full of teeth. “I like the way you're talking, Temp,” he leered.

“Shut up.” Face felt his cheeks heat with a blush but ploughed on. “It's intimidating, do you realise that?” He gave that a moment to sink in before adding, “Seeing you do something like this, something crazy and pointless and juvenile? Frankly, it's nice to see that you're only human after all.”

Finally, Hannibal seemed to snap out of his black mood, stunned into silence but with a more natural smile on his face as the frown finally melted away. “I'm very human, Face, believe me.”

Face shifted closer, sliding his free hand up to cup Hannibal's cheek. “Says the man who never loses,” he whispered. “The man with a reputation for pulling off the impossible.”

“Do I intimidate you, kid?”

Face shrugged, craning his head up to steal a kiss. “Sometimes, yes,” he admitted softly. “In the bedroom, usually. In the planning tent, sometimes. But then, only sometimes: I always knew you were human.”

“Then what - ?”

“It'll do the rest of the base good to see you on crutches for a little while. And I think it'll do you good to remember you aren't invincible.”

Hannibal nodded slowly. “Fair enough.”

But Face hadn't finished yet. “And to remember to be more careful after a night keeping pace with the General when you're drinking his finest whiskey.”

“I can drink his ass under the table any day of the week,” Hannibal muttered, and Face finally gave in to his threatening giggles at those famous last words.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 80 prompts down, 20 left to go. Thank you to everyone who is still sticking with me! 
> 
> Hope you're all keeping well and staying safe. Be kind to yourselves and each other x
> 
> LB


	81. A Place To Belong (BA/F)

“Do you miss it?” BA asks softly, watching Face closely though his partner's features are carefully blank. “The Army, I mean. The Rangers.”

“No,” Face answers immediately, then, after a pause for thought, he adds, “Sometimes. Not really.”

“Not really?” BA prompts, and Face's eyes go hard, like blue steel.

“Not in any way that matters. I miss the routine sometimes, I miss the sense of purpose, and I miss some of the people. But then I remember I still have all of that and much more.”

There's a tone in Face's voice that tells BA not to push, yet at the same time he feels he has to know. Face has been quiet all afternoon, since the parade was shown on the news.

“It's okay to miss it; I miss it,” BA confesses eventually, a knot loosening somewhere in his chest at the admission.

“Really?” Face sounds surprised. “I didn't realise.”

“Well, I do.” BA waits, but Face still isn't giving anything away. “It was my second family. A place to belong, and when Morrison screwed us all over that was all ripped away.”

He's never shared this before, in fact he's never consciously thought about it. He's spent the last five years – five long years on the run, since the mess that was Iraq – trying hard not to think about it.

He can't be the only one that feels this way, surely? But then - 

“I never felt that way.” Face's voice is softer now, though his gaze remains distant, thoughtful. “I wanted the Army to be my second family – or my first family, I guess – but it never felt that way to me.”

“How come?”

Face huffs a soft laugh. “Hannibal became my family very early on, in a way, then when you and Murdock joined us - ”

“If you're about to say we became one big happy family, then I think we need a different conversation.” BA and Face have been together for years now, happy and in love, and BA honestly can't remember a time when he thought of the other man as a brother, not even when they first met back in Mexico.

“But we are family.” Face turns to him at last, a tiny smile on his lips and those blue eyes shining brightly. “I stayed in the Army for you, all of you, and I can't miss it because you're all still with me.”

“What about - ?”

“Belonging? I belong with you.” And Face leans in to kiss BA firmly, one talented, long-fingered hand sliding up to cup the back of his skull possessively. “And you belong with me,” he adds when they break apart, voice low and husky.

“I do,” BA agrees, slightly breathless and lost in his lover's bright eyes. “So, you wouldn't go back then, if they asked?”

“Not in a million years.” The answer is immediate and firm, with an undercurrent of hatred that makes BA wonder – not for the first time – just how well he really knows this man he loves. “They hurt Hannibal and threw us out like we were trash. They don't deserve to have us back.”

“Face, I'm sorry, I didn't think.”

“Seeing them on parade earlier, it made me realise how lucky I am.” Face, ever mercurial, is smiling again now, his hand still holding BA loosely, keeping that eye contact. “I belong here, wherever you are, and I never thought I'd belong anywhere or with anyone.”


	82. Advantage (M/F)

Of all the sports they’ve played, from soccer to volleyball to basketball to baseball to good-old American Football, this isn’t a sport Face is particularly fond of. It doesn’t feel natural, and it doesn’t come naturally to him. He’s used to things coming naturally.

As Murdock serves up yet another ace – apparently that’s the official term – Face thinks that it seems to come a little too naturally to his sneaky lover.

“Are you sure you never took lessons?” he asks as they line up yet again, face-to-face over the net on opposite sides of the tennis court. 

Another ace goes whizzing past his ear, as Murdock whoops loudly and punches his fist into the air. “Never taken a single lesson, Facey, I promise!”

“Still, I feel at a disadvantage here,” Face comments, preparing for his own serve and knowing he absolutely won’t ace it. “What’s the score now?”

“Thirty-love,” Murdock chirrups, twirling his racket lightly in his fingers. “And one set to love.”

Face bounces the ball once and catches it, then pauses, frowns. “That’s the same as two to nothing, right? Two nil?”

“Yeah, but it’s not scored like that.” Murdock starts bouncing around on his toes, dancing from side to side. “It’s thirty love. Then, when I get another point, it’ll be forty love.”

“Why not forty-five love? I thought it was going up in fifteens, for whatever ridiculous British reason.”

Murdock shrugs, then beckons. “Still my serve, Face.”

“Still?” Face is lost. “You had two serves, I thought I get two now.”

Murdock giggles and gestures again. “Not how it works.”

Reluctantly, Face tosses the ball over the net to Murdock, who catches it effortlessly. “How do I know you aren’t just making the rules up as you go along for your own advantage?” he asks, almost hesitantly, but Murdock just shrugs again.

“You watched Wimbledon with me,” the other main points out. “Didn’t you pick this stuff up?”

Face debates how honest he should be at this point. He knows it’s the stereotypically-male thing to appear to instinctively understand the rules of all sports ever invented, but he’s always enjoyed just playing more than watching, with the possible exception of the Superbowl.

But this is Murdock, he reminds himself, who is bouncing the ball quickly as if he’s ready to shoot yet another ace at him.

“I enjoyed Wimbledon, don’t get me wrong,” he says, holding up both hands with the racket pointed at the sky, to stall the inevitable humiliation. “But I wasn’t paying attention to the rules. I was paying attention to the players.”

Murdock catches the ball and stops dead, cocking his head on one side with a knowing smirk. “You were watching those firm asses in those tight shorts, and the thighs, and the arms – ”

“Yeah, so what if I was?” Face had found he was really quite fond of the standard tennis players’ physique. “I quite enjoyed the women’s games too.”

“You didn’t find all the grunting distracting?” Murdock asks coyly, waggling his eyebrows even as he readies himself to serve once again.

And then it’s Face’s turn to shrug, feeling a faint blush heating his cheeks. Or it could just be the exertion; tennis is more of a work-out than he’d expected.

“The grunting was a little distracting,” he concedes, not adding how much he’d actually enjoyed listening, but Murdock laughs loudly and gleefully.

“I knew it!” he crows, raising his racket. “All right, break’s over. Here we go again!”

And all Face can do is brace himself, and flinch when another ace barely misses him.


	83. Breakfast (H/F)

Hannibal couldn’t remember ever being happier to close the front door behind him and shut out the rest of the world for the evening. It had been a long and boring day, full of meetings and briefings and more meetings and even more briefings, and he was utterly done with everything.

Everything apart from Face, of course.

“Is it just that I’m getting old, or is it more exhausting sitting in a conference room that being in the middle of a war zone?” he asked his lover as they both staggered into the kitchen.

“Well, you _are_ getting old,” Face started, though he quickly added, “But I’m exhausted too.”

At least Hannibal had been able to keep himself distracted throughout the day by trying to catch Face’s eye. Face had been seated diagonally opposite him for most of the day, out of reach for a quick game of footsie or a quick grope, but he’d managed to reduce his lover to giggles a couple of times with a waggle of his eyebrows or a slight smirk.

Whatever semi-sexual tension might have built up, though, it had long disappeared by the time they’d driven home. All Hannibal wanted was dinner then bed, preferably with Face right by his side.

He went straight to the fridge and opened it, staring into the depths. “What do you fancy, sweetheart?” he asked over his shoulder. “We’ve got steaks. Or that chicken leftover from last night?”

“I don’t know that I’m all that hungry,” Face commented, sounding as drained as Hannibal felt. “Not for real food, at least.”

“You’ve got to eat something. Lunch was ages ago. A quick dinner then bed. How about soup and sandwiches?”

“How about breakfast?”

Hannibal half-closed the fridge and turned to where Face was leaning one hip against the kitchen table. “You know you’ll be miserable if you go to bed on an empty stomach,” he pointed out carefully.

“No, I mean – I just fancy breakfast for dinner.” Face pushed up and reached for the boxes of cereal stacked above the units. “Some of Murdock’s triple chocolate crunch and a slice or two of toast with peanut butter.”

“Breakfast for dinner,” Hannibal repeated in wonder, shaking his head slightly, though he also reached into the fridge for milk before letting the door close. Face’s fully skimmed milk, naturally, rather than the full-fat they kept for BA and Murdock. “What are you, six years old?”

Face had already grabbed a bowl and a spoon, and was in the process of pouring himself a more-than-generous helping. “You know you want some too,” he said with a faint smirk. “Or you can always heat up the chicken for yourself.”

Hannibal thought for barely a second before giving in and reaching for a bowl too. Who said they had to be grown-ups all the time? They’d been sitting in serious meetings all day, planning for their next deployment, and they’d earned the right to have chocolate cereal for dinner.

“You’re a bad influence on me, Temp,” he muttered fondly as Face duly filled his bowl for him.

“Ah, you know you love me really.”


	84. Echoes (H/F + H/F)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, you read those pairings right! Tags updated to include The A-Team (TV), much to my surprise.  
> LB x

It’s a beautiful, warm summer’s day, a cooling breeze blowing in from the sea and stirring the trees and the grass in the park, just a little way from the beach. Beneath one of the largest trees sits a bench, safely shaded from the direct sunshine, and on that bench sit two men.

The men are side by side, close enough to be touching from shoulder to hip to knee to ankle, and the older of the two is holding the younger man’s hand loosely in his own.

‘Younger’ is relative, though, as both men are old now, silver-haired and a little stooped even as they sit. The older has close-cropped hair and sharp blue eyes, wearing a leather jacket and jeans, with a cigar firmly clamped between his teeth. 

The younger still wears his hair a little longer, still poker-straight, now a startling white where it used to be blond. Even his fashionable reading glasses can’t hide his vivid blue eyes, and his suit is as sharp and as well-tailored as any that ever graced the catwalks of London or Paris or New York.

The two men are watching another two men, younger men, who are strolling through the park side by side. They aren’t hand in hand, but there’s still something in the way they look at each other than makes the older couple smile.

* * *

“Do they remind you of anyone?” A gentle nudge from the older man to the younger. “They look like they’re trying so hard not to be obvious.”

“Takes one to know one, or two to know two,” his companion agrees easily. “But hopefully they’ll figure out it doesn’t matter who knows.”

“Took us long enough to learn that lesson, huh?”

“But we’ve come a long way since Vietnam, Colonel.”

The older laughs softly. “You were so young,” he remembers, staring at his husband with misty eyes “Just a little baby Lieutenant.”

“You were young too.”

“Younger, maybe. Not sure I was ever young.”

They share a brief kiss, full of love and respect and a hint of the fiery passion of their youth, before turning in unison back to the men they were watching.

“It’s like seeing echoes of the past, that’s how much they remind me of us,” the younger man muses thoughtfully. “The way they look at each other. The way they’re so close. The age difference.”

The older man huffs. “Don’t remind me,” he mutters, but the younger just laughs.

“I thought you’d gotten over that, John?”

“Ah, I have, and you’ve always been an old soul, Templeton Peck.” Another kiss, and a tight embrace, and they settle back on the bench to watch, closer than ever before.

* * *

The other two men have noticed the couple beneath the tree, and they both can’t help but smile, though they try hard not to stare.

“Gives you hope, doesn’t it?” The taller of the two, silver-haired and leanly-muscled, draws out a cigar from the pocket of his leather jacket. “Maybe that’ll be us one day.”

His companion, wavy-haired and with unique sapphire eyes, nods thoughtfully. “I really hope so,” he says softly, though his gaze is drawn back to his older lover rather than the sweet sight of the two old men on the bench.

The taller man, perhaps sensing his younger lover’s gaze, glances at him sideways and smiles, reaching out a hand. “Come on, Face.”

And Face, biting his lip, takes Hannibal’s hand as they stroll on through the park, away into the summer’s afternoon.


	85. Falling (H/F + BA/OFC)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tags updated to include BA/OFC.  
> Which, to my great surprise, didn't exist. Are there really still pairings that haven't been written in this fandom?  
> LBx

“Can I ask you a question?”

They were countless beers into the evening, half-watching some crazy action movie with a ridiculous amount of car chases, and BA was well and truly buzzed. Which was the only reason he asked.

“You can ask me anything, man.” Face was slumped on the couch by BA’s side, in a similar state of inebriation. “I may or may not answer, however.”

“That’s fair.” BA nodded to himself for a long time. He drained his beer and reached down into the ice-filled cooler to grab another one, then drained half of that too in one long gulp.

“So?” Face eventually asked.

“So what?”

“So what did you want to ask?”

“Oh.” BA had to think for a moment, wondering how to phrase it, how to say it. “Oh, yeah. When you and Hannibal first started getting serious, how did you know?”

“How did I know… what?”

BA took another sip. “How’d you know it was more than a fling?” he tried, then shook his head – that still wasn’t right. “How’d you first know you loved him?”

“Oh.” The word was little more than a sigh, and BA kept his gaze firmly on the movie. “That’s difficult,” Face said eventually. “I guess you’re looking for a better answer than ‘I just knew’?”

“I guess so.”

“Are things… Things are going well, then, with this woman you’ve not introduced us to yet.” There was a faint teasing tone in Face’s voice, and that was fair; BA had been carefully keeping his new relationship away from his friends, just for now, just until he knew what it was. 

Tonight, it was just the two of them talking and drinking, and BA was glad. He wouldn’t have dared asked Hannibal, and Murdock wouldn’t have given him a straight answer. But Face…

“Things are going very well,” BA said slowly, smiling to himself then smiling wider when Face bumped their shoulders together. “In fact, I think I might be, maybe, well…”

“Are you falling in love?” BA had never been more glad of his friend’s perceptive and non-judgmental nature, and he nodded then realised Face was still deliberately watching the movie too.

“Maybe. But I’ve never…” He paused, wondered if he should, then carried on. “I’ve never felt like this. Like, I’m just falling. Every time I see her.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Over and over, like in the pit of my stomach. Like I’m at the top of a rollercoaster but it only goes higher up. Is that love?”

“Maybe.” Face reached into the cooler for another beer. “I mean, it could be. I get that feeling, sometimes, when I look at Hannibal.”

“Really? Still? You’ve been together for, what, ten years nearly?” For the first time since he plucked up the courage to start this awkward conversation, BA turned to look directly at Face. His friend was smiling, his sweet and natural smile rather than his wide con-man grin, and his eyes were shining with more than just the effects of the alcohol.

“Really,” Face whispered, nodding to himself slowly. “She must be pretty special, this lady of yours.”

“She really is.”

“I’d love to meet her sometime. When you’re both ready.”

And for the first time, that prospect didn’t seem so scary to BA. He knew his team would behave, knew they’d love her too, but it still felt like a big step – not quite as big as meeting the parents, but not far off.

“Maybe,” BA said quietly, and he bumped shoulders with Face again, glad he’d asked the question and glad it was just the two of them talking. “Thanks, man.”

“Anytime, brother.”


	86. Picking Up The Pieces (gen)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, it's another chunk of angst today, along with some hurt/comfort.  
> LBx

Hannibal was approaching his breaking point, and it didn’t take a genius to see that the imminent implosion would be nuclear strength. In a way, it was impressive that Hannibal had held it together as long as he had, but BA knew that even their Colonel’s legendary stamina and self-control had finite limits.

Those limits were close now, and BA wasn’t the only one who could see it. It was in Murdock’s anxious gaze whenever he watched their Colonel pacing up and down the hospital corridors, and it was in Face’s tired, bloodshot eyes when he woke briefly from his drugged sleep.

The worst was over now, the doctors said, and Face was predicted to make a full recovery. He was still very weak, but he was no longer critical, holding his own at last after a terrifying few days battling a post-surgical infection.

BA knew Hannibal was blaming himself, typically, though blame was pointless and wouldn’t help anyone. Now that Face was awake and aware, that guilt would begin to eat up their strong Colonel, and BA knew there was nothing he could say or do to cut through Hannibal’s guilt. Any attempts at conversation would be shut down or outright ignored until after the implosion.

This wasn’t the first time they’d been here, sadly, and it wouldn’t be the last.

So BA watched, and waited. Watched Hannibal sitting by Face’s side, holding their Lieutenant’s hand tightly in his own, then watched him go right back to pacing when Face was dragged back under by sickness and medication.

He waited, patiently, knowing Hannibal would most likely try to slip away from them in order to hide his own weakness. It wouldn’t be long now.

And, sure enough, after the doctors gave Face his evening dose of medications, he saw Hannibal press a chaste kiss to the sleeping man’s forehead before leaving the room very swiftly. BA exchanged knowing glances with Murdock as his friend slipped into the vacant seat by Face’s bedside, then headed straight out after their Colonel.

Hannibal left the hospital and walked through the base, covering the familiar ground quickly with long strides on longer legs as BA half-jogged to keep up. He didn’t head for home but instead turned off into one of the small areas of green space dotted around, supposedly a ‘park’ for one of the admin blocks.

BA stayed back, in the shadows of the buildings, and waited some more. There was no one else around thankfully so when Hannibal did break, BA would be the only witness. He would be ready to start picking up the pieces before Hannibal could finally start forgiving himself.

The distant sounds of base life faded away as Hannibal paced in ever-decreasing circles, running his hands repeatedly through his hair and occasionally pounding one fist against his chest or his thigh.

It took less time that BA expected, and sure sign perhaps of just how drained and exhausted Hannibal must feel.

The very moment Hannibal fell to his knees, BA was moving, walking fast but not quite running. He was kneeling by his Colonel’s side before the first tears even fell, pulling Hannibal’s unresisting form into a tight embrace, feeling tears of his own prickle the backs of his eyes as the strong body shook in his arms.

They’d been here before, when Murdock or Face had been hurt, and BA knew his friends and teammates had done the same for Hannibal when BA was the man down. Tonight, BA would hold Hannibal for as long as the older man needed, while Murdock sat with their downed man. And when Hannibal puled himself back together, they’d walk back to the hospital side by side, with not a word spoken.


	87. Gunshot (gen)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a prequel/companion piece to chapter 86: Picking Up The Pieces.  
> LB

When Hannibal first heard it, he was certain it had missed them all. A single gunshot out of the darkness, with his team spread to the winds, followed almost immediately by an answering shot from a sniper rifle.

Face, as swift to respond as ever.

Hannibal checked in with each of his team over the radio, even as he was running instinctively for cover – better safe than sorry, always the golden rule. Murdock answered first, giving his all-clear, then BA confirming he was fine.

Face skipped over a confirmation of his condition and went straight to directing Hannibal away from the explosives and towards their ultimate target, using his vantage point atop a nearby roof – Hannibal obeyed without question, trusting his lieutenant with no doubt after so long working together.

Afterwards, though, he would question himself. More specifically, he would question why he didn’t question Face any further.

But what good would it have done if they’d all known then that Face had been shot? The team were so close, their target essential, and there was simply no option to abort.

Face had known that, of course, and he’d worked on through what Hannibal knew must have been terrible pain and dangerous levels of blood loss.

Later, when Hannibal had destroyed the target, when BA and Murdock had made their way safely back to his side, when Face’s words over the radio became noticeably slurred, they would realise. When Face confessed that he couldn’t get to their rendezvous point under his own power.

Hannibal ordered BA and Murdock to go on ahead, telling him that he’d fetch Face and meet them later, but his men respectfully declined to obey his order – well, as respectfully as they ever did anything.

Still, Hannibal was the first up the stairs to the rooftop where Face lay. He’d stopped responding to them only minutes before, and the sight of seeing him lying slumped in position over his partially disassembled rifle would haunt Hannibal for the rest of his life.

A simple through and through to the left shoulder. No way for Face to apply a tourniquet or even to keep pressure on the wound, not without relinquishing his rifle, something Hannibal knew his boy would never have done while his team were in danger.

There was a storm brewing around them as Hannibal gathered Face up as carefully as he could, swinging the limp body over his shoulder and heading immediately to the stairs down while Murdock led the way and BA followed, after scooping up Face’s precious equipment.

The field dressing hadn’t held, Face’s blood soaking Hannibal’s shirt long before they made it back to the RV point. The sand and dirt swirling in the air had coated all of them, and Hannibal had known in his gut that Face would have to battle infection as well as blood loss and potential muscle or nerve damage.

At least Face had kept breathing all the way back to base, though his limp body had trembled and grown cold in Hannibal’s lap, and he’d whimpered whenever the truck hit a pothole or bump, a pathetic noise so atypical of Hannibal’s bold XO that it had nearly brought tears to his eyes.

But Hannibal stayed strong, for his other men more than his unconscious boy. He should’ve known something was wrong, back before that single gunshot rang out. He should’ve seen the possibility of an attack. He should’ve made Face choose a safer position. He should’ve been quicker to realise Face was hurt.

There would be time to work through all that later, though, once Face was out of surgery and off antibiotics. Time to deal with everything later. Much, much later.


	88. Possession (H/F)

“Well, that was certainly worth the wait!” Face could barely catch his breath as he collapsed across Hannibal’s bare chest, managing to snug his head up under Hannibal’s chin in his favourite position. “Phenomenal, as always!”

Hannibal’s huge hands came quickly to rest on Face’s equally-naked body, one cupping the back of his head protectively and one splaying wide over the dip in his lower back.

“Right back at you, Templeton.” Hannibal’s words were little more than a deep rumble somewhere in that broad chest, and Face felt them more than heard them, even as he yawned widely and felt all the remaining kinks in his muscles finally unwind.

Three long months away, three long months of difficult and dangerous work, three long months of stolen moments together and hasty handjobs and biting their fists in a desperate attempt to keep quiet. Three months, but they were home now, and they’d barely let the front door slam closed behind them before ripping each other’s clothes off. Literally: Hannibal’s t-shirt was in pieces in the hallway, and Face had no idea where his briefs had ended up.

Thank goodness Murdock and BA hadn’t followed them home.

Face could feel sleep beckoning now, even though it was barely one in the afternoon – having two powerful orgasms in less than an hour tended to have that effect on him, and Hannibal’s tender fingers combing through his hair wasn’t exactly helping him stay awake, though Hannibal’s next words were something of a puzzle to his sleepy mind.

“I meant it, you know. Though I do know you’re your own man.”

“Hmm?” Face blinked lazily, trying to decide if he had the energy left to sit up but eventually deciding he was quite comfortable where he was. “Meant what, love? I wasn’t paying a lot of attention to what you were saying, I’m afraid. Not at the very end.”

“I said you were mine.” Hannibal’s words were exhausted yet also fierce. Possessive. “Mine.”

Face remembered hearing that, and he felt a shiver run down his spine again hearing it now. “I am yours.” Sitting up was still beyond him, but he managed to tilt his head up just enough to kiss Hannibal’s collarbone. “I’m all yours. Always have been, always will be.”

Hannibal’s arms slid further around him, squeezing tightly. “I know you’re worth more than that,” he whispered. “You’re much more than just my possession. I need you to know that I know that.”

Face was starting to feel his post-coital bliss melt just a fraction. “What if I’m okay with being yours?” he asked softly, finding the strength to lift a hand to stroke Hannibal’s bicep gently. “What if I want to be your possession?”

“Sweetheart – ”

“Listen to me, John Smith. I want to be yours. It’s all I’ve ever wanted, to belong to someone.” Face closed his eyes again, shuffling down just a fraction until he could rest his ear over Hannibal’s heart, which was still beating just a tiny bit too fast after their recent exertions. “And it goes both ways, remember.”

“It does?” A smile now in Hannibal’s voice, and Face could relax once again into arms he knew would always cradle him safely.

“I’m yours, but only if you’re mine,” he clarified, and those arms holding him tightened like steel, forcing the breath briefly from his lungs.

“I’ve been yours since the very first day we met,” Hannibal whispered possessively.

“Then that’s settled.” Face managed to take a shallow breath when the greedy embrace eased a fraction, thrilling at the attention and the ownership and, above all, the love. “So what do you say to catching a little catnap now before we try for round three?”

“I’d say I like the way you think very much, Templeton.”


	89. Twilight (BA/M)

Were you Team Edward or Team Jacob?

What on Earth are you talking about now?

Come on, big guy! Team Edward or Team Jacob?

I have no idea what you’re on about. Are we talking football teams? Weird-ass basketball teams?

…Are you serious? You don’t know?

I’m as deadly serious as I’ve ever been, Murdock. Now either explain yourself – in short, sharp sentences – or shut up.

Team Edward or Team Jacob! It was the biggest debate of the twenty-first century! The greatest love triangle ever known to humankind! You had to pick a side if you had any credibility.

Fool, if you don’t – 

Twilight, BA! I’m talking about the Twilight books. Stephenie Meyer’s finally released Midnight Sun after all these years, so we can finally find out what Edward really thought when he first met Bella, and I’ve been rereading the original books – though I missed out Life and Death, and I skipped Bree Tanner too – and it made me wonder if you’d been Team Edward or Team Jacob.

…That actually made some sense. I’m impressed.

So?

So what?

So, which were you? I was always Team Edward myself, and obviously that was right because Bella chose Edward and they were always meant to be together, but I was never one of those fans who would judge anyone for picking Team Jacob ‘cause he was a good guy and he did love Bella, but then at the same time – 

Stop talking now.

But which team were you?

Does it matter?

Of course not! But then, it also really does! I’m gonna read Midnight Sun this weekend and I need to know what you think, and then you can always borrow it after me if you want and we can talk about it and compare notes.

How important is it that I have an opinion on this?

On Twilight? It’s pretty insignificant in the grand scheme of things, I guess, but it’s something I loved, and still love, so also very important that you love it too.

Okay. So, take a deep breath.

Okay.

Remember that I love you. 

Okay, Bosco. I love you too.

I’ve never read the books.

What?!

It was never my thing, Murdock. Sparkly vampires and werewolves and teenage girls angsting over life, the universe, and everything? I had more important things going on.

More important that Team Edward or Team Jacob?!

Yes, baby, I’m sorry but more important than that.

Nothing was more important than that!

…Don’t be upset, Murdock, please.

I just can’t believe you never read them! It makes me sad that you’ve never read the greatest love story of all time.

Really? The greatest love story of all time? I thought that was you and me.

No, no, no. You aren’t going to charm your way out of this. I’m really, truly, honestly shocked. Right down to my bones. 

But it's just a book, Murdock.

Not just A Book. It’s the best series of books ever written, by any human, ever.

Ever?

Yes!

…Then I guess I should maybe read book one, if it’ll make you happy.

Yes! That’ll make me happy! And you won’t be able to read just book one, you’ll have to read New Moon, and Eclipse, and Breaking Dawn, and then you’ll need to – 

Murdock?

Yes, Bosco?

One book at a time, okay. 

Okay. Love you.

Love you too. Now give me the damn thing and I’ll see what all the fuss is about.


	90. Nowhere And Nothing (M/F)

“Murdock? You up here?” Face paused on the roof at the bottom of the access ladder, after having already climbed to the top of the fire escape, oddly reluctant to go any further without knowing exactly what he was walking in to. “What’s going on?”

He’d found a note on his pillow when he got in from a rare and boring day in the office, with cryptic directions guiding him through the base and eventually leading him to the general admin block, and more specifically to the black metal ladder leading from the roof to the top of the air conditioning units, which stood a good few feet taller than Face.

“Murdock?” he called again, planting his hands on his hips and wondering if he’d been played for a fool.

“Faceman?” A familiar voice eventually answered him, followed a second later by a familiar shaggy head popping over the edge of the units. “You found me!”

“Well, you did leave me clues,” Face pointed out. “I assumed that meant you wanted me to find you.”

“It did! I do!” Murdock cocked his head to one side, a huge grin on his features that strangely did nothing to settle Face’s unease. “Are you coming up?”

“Not until you tell me where you’ve been all day and what you’ve been up to!”

“Nowhere and nothing,” Murdock chirped easily. “Now come on up!” The head disappeared, leaving Face shaking his own head and fighting back a smile of his own, knowing he was about to give in and hating himself a tiny bit for being so intrigued.

The black ladder was long and perfectly vertical, and the faint sounds of base life beneath them melted away almost entirely as Face carefully climbed upwards. They were in the very centre of the base, and heaven only knew how Murdock had found his way up here, or why, or even – 

“Holy shit,” Face breathed as he reached the top at last, and the view took his breath away completely. There were no walls or safety railings on top of the air con units, and the entire 360 view of the base lay there for only the two of them to see. It was twilight, and the lights were only just starting to be turned on in offices and on the roads, a sea of fireflies coming to life just for them.

“What d’you think?” Murdock asked softly, and Face managed to drag his gaze away from the horizon to see the set-up his lover had prepared.

A picnic blanket, and cushions. Fairy lights draped around the edges rather than hung up, so as not to block the views. Not one but two picnic hampers, and a bottle of what looked like champagne chilling in an actual ice bucket, with two glasses ready and waiting.

“What did you do?” Face gasped in delight, turning slowly in a circle to take it all in. “Is this for me?”

Murdock snorted lightly. “Of course it’s for you,” he said firmly. “Well, for us, really, but definitely for you!”

Face took a couple of careful steps onto the blanket, meeting his lover with a tender kiss and a tight embrace.

“It’s not an anniversary, is it?” he asked when they broke apart, his gaze drawn helplessly back to the horizon as the last of the sun started to drop away. “Not a birthday or anything like that?”

“No, no, no. Just a date night.”

“Date night?” Face couldn’t believe Murdock had gone to all this effort just for him, and his heart felt full to bursting with the love he had for this unpredictable man. “How did you even find this spot?”

“Don’t you worry about that, now. Best view on base, though, don’t you think?”

“Oh, definitely.”

“Can I tempt Sir with a glass of something chilled?” Murdock was suddenly by his side with two glasses of champagne, and Face gladly accepted his, clinking their glasses together and catching Murdock’s gaze before drinking.

“To us,” he said with a smile, and Murdock smiled back.

“To us, indeed.”


	91. Answers (BA/F)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tags updated to include Mpreg. And it's a bit of an angsty start, though hopefully a positive end!  
> LB x

BA was very much enjoying the peace and quiet, sprawled in his favourite armchair in Hannibal’s living room, with everyone else busy being somewhere else. He loved being with Hannibal and Murdock, and he was absolutely in love with Face, but after three months living in each other’s pockets during a difficult deployment it was unbelievably wonderful just to have a little breathing space.

He had a beer and a book; a favourite author had released a new title while they’d been away, and he had barely settled in to the first chapter when he heard the front door open.

“Bosco?” It was Face, and BA couldn’t help but sigh softly as he placed his bookmark carefully and closed his book. “You home?”

“Through here,” he called, his faint annoyance at the interruption changing swiftly to concern at the defeated tone of his lover’s voice. “Everything ok?”

Face appeared in the doorway a few moments later, hovering there in an oddly nervous way. “I’m sorry, I know you were planning a quiet afternoon.”

“Come here.” BA sat up a little straighter in his chair, beckoning to Face, who shook his head slightly. “Face?”

“I’ve got some news.” Face was a little pale under his tan, and he had his arms wrapped loosely around his stomach. “I’ve been to see a doctor.”

At that, BA was up and on his feet and straight across the room in seconds, his heart racing and his throat tight. Face had been sick on and off during their deployment, though he’d tried hard to conceal it from his lover and their teammates. “What’s wrong?” he asked, resting one hand on Face’s shoulder and sliding the other up into curly, soft hair to cradle his lover’s head gently. “Face, sweetheart, please talk to me.”

What if it was something awful? Something the doctors couldn’t cure? How would BA cope without the love of his life right by his side? Not that he’d told Face that, not yet. He’d been planning to tell him soon, though, and he even had a ring in a box buried at the back of his sock drawer.

Face took a slow, shaky breath before speaking. “They called me in for some tests,” he started, and BA frowned, confused. “Apparently there was a problem with a batch of contraceptives, the ones I use. A problem that meant it might not be effective.”

BA blinked, his thoughts and fears derailed. He looked into Face’s gorgeous blue eyes, eyes which were slightly wet and full of a mixture of emotions – fear, hope, doubt, and excitement.

Failed contraceptives. And Face was a carrier. And they had…

BA gasped, his grip on his lover tightening instinctively. “Are we pregnant?” he managed to ask, and Face suddenly burst into tears, throwing his arms around BA equally tightly. “Oh, sweetheart,” BA murmured, shifting to wrap his arms more carefully around Face and cradling him close as his thoughts started racing in amazement.

Pregnant. A baby. Something they had talked about in the abstract, an idea for five years down the line, maybe, if they were still together and still happy and ready to consider settling down properly.

“Thank you,” Face whispered into his ear, pressing a wet kiss to BA’s cheek before dropping his head back down again, still crying weakly. “For saying ‘we’.”

“We’re in this together, sweetheart. I love you.” BA started to rock Face from side to side as his lover’s tears started to dry up. “So, are we?” he asked again, hesitantly. “Are you?”

Face pulled back slightly, just enough for BA to finally see the wide smile shining through the tears. “We are,” Face confirmed. “I am. Pregnant, I mean. Thirteen weeks gone.”

Thirteen weeks. Thirteen – That was three months, more or less. That meant Face had been pregnant the entire time they were on deployment. Every time they’d been shot at, or had to hide, or jumped from a chopper, Face had been pregnant. Every moment they’d spent at risk, Face had been pregnant, and their unborn child had been at risk too.

BA slipped one hand carefully onto Face’s stomach, working his way beneath the thin t-shirt to press his palm flat over warm skin. Was it his imagination or was there already a tiny bump there?

“We’re both okay.” Face clearly read BA’s mind and provided the answers to his countless questions as he raised his own hands to press BA’s closer against his belly. “The doctor did an ultrasound there and then, and everything is fine. They’ve taken some blood just to check my hormone levels, and other things, but we’re fine, I promise.”

To BA’s ears, Face sounded far too in-control for a man who had just heard life-changing news, particularly given how BA’s thoughts were already spinning out of control. Face was pregnant. They were having a baby. They’d need to change their lives completely, their careers, everything.

A baby, though. Their baby.

“I love you so much.” BA looked deeply into Face’s eyes as he spoke, feeling his own tears of joy threatening to break free, and trying to pour all his love into his gaze. “Whatever you want to do, whatever you need, I’ll make sure you have it. Both of you.”

“I just need you,” Face breathed, and BA pulled him close again with his free arm, pinning their hands and Face’s belly between their bodies. “We’ll work everything else out later.”


	92. Innocence (H/F + BA/M)

They looked almost cute, lying there in the middle of the floor, surrounded by pillows and cushions. They were even half-curled around each other, top and tail. Almost cute. Almost.

“They finally crashed then,” BA commented dryly, keeping his voice carefully low as he and Hannibal stood in the doorway to the living room, surveying the chaos. “Took them longer than I expected.”

“I thought they’d never wear themselves out.” Hannibal’s voice was even softer. “Look at then, lying there. The very picture of innocence.”

“Looks can be deceiving.” BA glanced sideways at Hannibal and they both smiled at the same time, sharing a knowing look.

“Indeed.”

Neither Hannibal nor BA knew quite how it had all started. They’d merely walked in on the chaos-in-progress, when the kitchen had been wrecked and the living room had been utterly rearranged, blankets draped to form something of a fort.

Two empty bottles of champagne had been lined up carefully outside the living room door, though there had been three corks visible on the floor.

Giggles and hiccups had been audible from inside the blanket fort, and Hannibal and BA had, in total unison, turned right around without saying a word.

Some nights it was better to let the chaos carry on. They’d shared a few quiet beers in the garden, ordered and eaten a pizza, all while the sounds of laughter had things occasionally smashing had been heard from indoors.

Now, finally, things had fallen quiet, and the two men had ventured cautiously inside.

“Do you think we’re bad partners for not coming in sooner?” Hannibal’s words made BA pause for thought; he’d actually been wondering the same thing, truth be told.

But, weighing everything up – “No, I don’t think so,” he said slowly. “Those two fools are best friends, and they’re hard work even when they’re sober, let alone after three bottles of bubbly.”

“Four.” Hannibal nudged BA and gestured to where Murdock was curled around Face’s left leg, where a fourth bottle of champagne could just about be glimpsed. It was empty, of course.

BA took another glance, then had to cup his hand over his mouth to stifle his laughter. “Is Face sucking his thumb?” he hissed after he managed to get control of himself, and Hannibal took half a step into the room as if to look closer, then immediately groaned softly.

“You got your phone on you?” Hannibal whispered, and BA could’ve kicked himself for not thinking of it sooner.

Photos were taken. Many, many photos, both sweet and compromising, for memories and for future blackmail.

Eventually, though, all good things had to come to an end. “I dread to imagine the hangovers and the bad moods we’ll have to deal with tomorrow,” BA muttered as he slipped his phone back into his pocket.

“You know the drill,” Hannibal breathed. “Water and painkillers on the bedside table. My turn to do the obligatory fry-up for breakfast.”

BA sighed, shaking his head fondly. “It’s a good thing we’re on leave for another week.”

“It’s a good thing we love these two idiots.” Hannibal nudged BA once again. “I’ll get mine, you get yours?”

“Deal.”


	93. Simplicity (H/F)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If I was posting this one separately, I would probably give it an Explicit rating - might be just a high Teen as it's not very graphic, but I usually err on the side of caution. So if you don't want to read Explicit fic then please skip this one, ok?
> 
> Hope everyone is keeping well!  
> LB x

After nearly fifteen years together, Face knew they were lucky not to have fallen into a rut, so to speak, in the bedroom department. Many of their married friends moaned about their love lives – not that Hannibal or Face had ever asked.

It wasn’t luck that kept things fresh, though, Face was sure of that much. They worked hard to keep things interesting, not that the hard work was anything less than an absolute pleasure.

Sure, they were no longer in the ‘honeymoon phrase’, not after fifteen years together. They still had their moments, though, moments where they’d rip each other’s clothes off and fumble their way to the bedroom with lips locked. Face felt they could probably blame that on their Army days, when they’d had to make the very most of every single opportunity they had to get naked.

The years on the run hadn’t helped either. So often they’d had to share a motel room with BA and Murdock, or sleep in the van on drives across the country to find work, that ‘alone time’ had always been precious to them.

Not that their relationship had ever been just about the physical, even if the chemistry between them was as electrifying now as the day they’d met.

It was much more that that. It was respect and tenderness and pride in each other’s achievements. It was care and interest and a deep love, a love that Face could still barely believe he’d found.

It was honesty, too, and a willingness to talk and share, something that hadn’t come easy to either of them at first, not for two Rangers who had been trained to be strong and silent. At least in theory – Face knew he’d rarely listened to most of his training.

So, over the years they’d talked. And they’d shared their interests and their kinks, and they’d experimented behind the closed bedroom door whenever they could. Face had been delighted to find Hannibal was far more kinky than his strict Colonel-façade had suggested – still waters ran deep, after all – and over the years they’d tried a seemingly endless array of things, keeping their love life spicy and fresh.

But some nights, Face preferred simplicity. As great as it was being handcuffed, or spanked, or dressed in a corset and stockings, sometimes he craved a simpler connection, and Hannibal always seemed to know without even asking.

Nights like tonight. Hannibal had taken one look at Face and, without saying a word, had kissed him long and tender, stealing his breath away and leaving him gasping. Hannibal had led him to the bedroom by one hand and eased him down to lie flat on the bed, kissing him the whole time, and stripped him slowly down to bare skin.

Face had tried to lift his own hands to strip Hannibal in return, but his partner had pulled away each time, taking Face’s wrists and pressing them firmly into the pillows, and eventually Face had just given up, laying there in a blissful daze as Hannibal did all the work.

Simple, yet perfect. Lots of kissing, lots of lube, lots of slow stretching and tender stroking, and lots of heat between them. Face wrapped his arms around Hannibal’s strong shoulders, and widened his legs to cradle thrusting hips between his own. Slow and deep, every thrust making his blood sing, and Hannibal’s blue eyes were dark with passion as they stared into each other’s eyes the whole time.

Kinky could be amazing, and experimenting had brought lots of joy as well as a few disasters that had been amusing after the fact. But simplicity was Face’s true kink, and he had a partner who understood that. He truly felt he was the luckiest man in the world.


	94. Reality (H/F + Face/OMC)

Hi,  
Today's prompt gave me the idea to try writing a little sequel to an earlier piece of mine, from the Halloween prompt challenge last year on the H/F Yahoo group. This earlier piece was [Sapphire](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21244496), and due to the nature of that story I've chosen to post today's piece on it's own, rather than as part of this collection, partly so I can link the two and partly so as to avoid altering the rating here. If you haven't read 'Sapphire' then 'Reality' won't make any sense at all, and if you haven't read 'Sapphire' then please make sure you look at the tags before deciding whether to read it at all: it's a bit of a grim one even for me.

You can find today's piece over here: [Reality](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26271406)

Hopefully I'll be back to writing light pieces with the next prompt! Take care everyone,

LB x


	95. Acceptance (BA/F)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not quite back to cheerful, fluffy pieces yet I'm afraid. Very mild hurt/comfort today.
> 
> (And also, tags updated: can't believe I haven't added hurt/comfort yet! Sorry!)
> 
> 5 more to go... The end is in sight...  
> LB x

Face took one look at BA and knew exactly what his lover needed. Convincing the stubborn man himself might be tricky, though.

But sometimes direct worked well. It was worth a try, at least.

“Shirt off, lover-boy,” Face announced, pushing up from their bed where he’d been sprawled, waiting for BA to get out of the shower. “And then lie down.”

“I’m not really in the mood, Temp.” BA’s voice was tight, and fractionally deeper than usual, showing some of the pain Face knew the other man was still feeling.

“Not for that,” he told BA firmly, shaking his head even as he planted his hands on his hips. “I want you face down on the bed.”

“Kinky.” BA managed a snorted laugh, but Face found himself barely resisting the urge to smack the man.

Instead, he stepped to his lover’s side and rested a gentle hand on BA’s upper spine, just between strong shoulder blades. He could feel the tension of knotted muscles and strained ligaments, and hissed softly through his teeth in sympathy.

“You’re still feeling it, aren’t you?” he asked BA quietly, waiting for an answer that didn’t come. “You’re such a stubborn asshole at times.”

“Love you too, Face.” But BA didn’t step away, even going so far as to lean back slightly into Face’s palm.

They stood there a moment, Face starting to rub his hand very gently up and down, then eventually he said, “Let me help, please?”

He waited for a stiff nod of acceptance before going into action, dropping both hands to the waistband of his lover’s loose t-shirt. BA visibly winced and hissed as Face slowly lifted the shirt up and away.

Before Face could say another word, BA moved closer to the bed and started to lower himself to lie down. As much as Face wanted to help, he also knew there was only so far he dared push when BA was feeling vulnerable, so instead he busied himself turning on the bedside lamps and tweaking the blinds all the way shut, before slipping out of his own shirt and jogging pants.

With the main lights off and a bottle of plain, unscented lotion in his hands, Face finally turned back to the bed, and his heart sank at the sight waiting for him. BA had managed to lie down, dressed in only his black boxer-briefs, but every line of muscle spoke of pain and tightness.

“Whiplash is a real bastard, isn’t it?” Face whispered, shaking his head again and moving closer before hesitating for the first time since he’d formed his plan. “Maybe this isn’t such a good idea after all. I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You can’t make it worse, baby.” BA’s words were slightly slurred and muffled by the pillow under his head. “I trust you.”

Cautiously, Face climbed onto the bed and straddled BA’s strong thighs, lowering his weight slowly and listening for any signs of increased pain. When nothing was forthcoming, he flipped the lid on the lotion and poured a generous amount into his cupped palm, slicking his hands to warm the lotion. Then, he paused.

The broad, muscled expanse of back in front of him would usually make his mouth water and his shorts grow tight. It was still a glorious sight now but any arousal was damped by the visible tension across BA’s shoulders and neck.

“Tell me if it hurts too much to bear,” he whispered as he gently lowered his hands to the very top of his lover’s spine, and started to stroke those tense, aching muscles.

Face soon lost himself in the soothing motions, keeping his hands flat and the pressure light, knowing that a massage wouldn’t fix the whiplash but hoping it would help at least a little bit. Beneath his lotioned hands, BA’s skin shone and his muscles twitched occasionally, but he said not a single word, seeming to almost sink deeper into the mattress as time passed and Face kept his hands moving.

And when Face heard the first soft snore, he smiled to himself but kept his hands moving, content to stay there just as long as it took to let BA get some rest.


	96. Lesson (F/M)

I can’t believe you’ve done this to yourself.

What exactly about this scenario surprises you?

Alright, correction: I can’t believe you’ve done this to yourself _again_.

It was just so tempting. What can I say?

You can say sorry.

To you?

Yes, to me! I’m the one who’s going to have to look after you all night!

I only had a few bites.

I don’t think that’s going to make any difference.

It might. I feel perfectly fine right now.

It’s only been five minutes, wait for it…

It tasted so damn good.

Don’t you remember how sick you were last time?

But it tasted so good! And it was so tempting, just sitting there on the kitchen table, waiting for me.

It wasn’t waiting for you. It was waiting for Hannibal; it’s his favourite.

…I didn’t know that.

And you didn’t think to ask. Did you really think I’d made it for you, after you got so sick last time?

I still say it wasn’t the cake last time. It might’ve been something else that upset my stomach.

Like what?

…I’d had a PB and J sandwich earlier?

It was the cake, and you know it. And the only new ingredient for you was kiwi fruit.

But I feel fine right now.

Give it time.

Aren’t you just a ray of sunshine and positivity?

I really, really, really thought you’d learned your lesson last time.

What on Earth made you think that?

The twelve hours you spent throwing up after you ate the cake.

It wasn’t that long.

I don’t think you were in much condition to keep track of the time, sweetheart.

True. I’ll give you that.

So, was it worth it?

Was what worth it?

Eating the cake, knowing you’ll be spending all night puking your guts up?

It tasted amazing, even though I only had a few bites. That Great British Bake Off recipe book is really working for you, huh?

I’m enjoying it, yes. I might even enter the show next time.

You’re not British, baby.

Like that’ll stop me.

And you don’t live in Britain.

Again, like that’ll – 

Murdock?

Yes, Face?

I don’t think I feel so good…

I don’t want to have to say it.

You can say it if you want to. I’d understand.

I told you so.

Oh… here we go…

I’m right here, you idiot. I’ve got you.


	97. Enthusiasm (gen)

The resounding silence that filled the room, in the moments after Hannibal finished laying out his plan, spoke volumes. As did the confused faces of his three boys, and the way they all fell perfectly still, none of them meeting his gaze.

“This wasn’t exactly the reaction I was expecting,” Hannibal commented drily, quirking one eyebrow up as he tried to look each of his team in the eye. “I really thought there would be more enthusiasm and less… nothing.”

BA shifted from one foot to the other, meeting Hannibal’s gaze for a split-second before blinking and looking back down. Murdock stared at Hannibal with wide unfocused eyes, though he did twitch a matching eyebrow upwards, while Face’s expression was blank and utterly inscrutable.

“Come on boys,” Hannibal cajoled, planting his hands flat on the table and leaning forwards over his maps and diagrams. “How often do we get the chance to actually do this?”

“It feels suspiciously straightforward.” To Hannibal’s slight surprise, it was Murdock who spoke up first. “I know we’re always kidding about doing it one day, but this time we’re really doing it? And we really think it’s going to work?”

Hannibal grinned, waggling both eyebrows. “Oh yes, we’re doing it. And of course it’ll work.”

“Seriously, boss?” BA that time, folding his muscular arms across his equally muscular chest and cocking his head to one side. “There’s a twist somewhere, right? Some part you haven’t told us about yet?”

Hannibal felt his grin grow wider still. “No twist, Bosco,” he said gleefully, thoroughly enjoying their reactions but still hoping for a more positive result. “Nothing wrong with doing exactly what we’ve always joked about.”

Murdock laughed, suddenly, though it was a slightly twisted sound. “You’re really expecting us to just…”

“Say it,” Hannibal prompted, glancing quickly at the still-silent Face before looking back at his Captain. “You know you want to.”

Silence again, for just a second, then BA blurted out, “We’re going in through the front door?”

And Hannibal couldn’t hold back his laughter at the note of utter disbelief in his man’s voice. He threw back his head and practically howled, vaguely aware that his three boys were exchanging worried glances, though he really didn’t care. They’d thought he was crazy many times before, and he’d always proved them wrong.

Or maybe he’d proved them right. Either way, they were all still alive to tell the tale, and their mission success rate spoke for itself, crazy or not.

“I know the whole mission is something of a milk-run, boys,” he told them, once he’d gotten his laughter under control and pulled his serious face back on. “And that’s a very deliberate decision by the powers-that-be.” Hannibal cast a quick glance towards Face, and saw how his lieutenant’s expression softened a fraction; Face was newly cleared for full duty after a long six months of recovery and physiotherapy, following a near-fatal bullet wound to the spine.

“I’m in,” Face said suddenly, his voice little more than a whisper, though his eyes were shining brightly in anticipation. “You’re right, boss. When will we ever get the chance to do this again?”

“Through the front door?” BA repeated, still incredulous, and Murdock snorted with suppressed laughter once again.

“We’re all really just going to walk straight on in…?” the pilot managed, and Hannibal just stared at Face, waiting, hoping, wanting – 

And Face finally cracked, at last, folding forwards as laughter erupted from his mouth. He reached out over the table and Hannibal happily accepted the proffered fist bump as all his boys finally fell into line behind the plan he’d always wanted to put into action.


	98. Game (H/F)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, I've labelled it H/F but I suppose more accurately this is Hannibal+Face - here's a little bit of pre-relationship, for once, just for a change! 
> 
> Only two prompts left to write after this. Can't quite believe the end is in sight...  
> LB x

Hannibal was surprised when Face flopped back down into the sofa after taking a shower, rather than heading straight out the door to another club or party or _something_. “You staying in tonight?” he asked, trying not to let his surprise show in his voice. “Thought you had plans?”

“Cancelled ‘em.” As Hannibal watched, Face shifted around in the cushions until he was able to find a comfortable spot in the corner, long denim-clad legs tucked up beneath himself and chin in hand as elbow rested on the arm. “Thought we could have a quiet night in.”

The simple words, so casually spoken, made Hannibal smile and he felt his heart beat a little faster, though he tried to keep his expression calm. Face had been living with him for nearly six months now; at first only temporarily while his tiny studio apartment was redecorated after a leak, now officially permanent since they’d been getting along so well, just as Hannibal had always hoped. But it was getting harder to hide his feelings for his handsome young lieutenant, and watching the younger man constantly heading out to ‘party’ whenever they were off-duty was growing difficult.

“Unless… did you have plans, boss?” Face suddenly sounded worried, those vividly bright blue eyes staring over at Hannibal in his favourite armchair.

Hannibal was quick to reassure his boy. “No, no plans, kid,” he said, relieved when Face relaxed again. “Had half-thought about getting in a pizza, a few beers. See if there’s a game on the telly.”

“Sounds good. But why don’t I cook us something?” The offer was immediate and genuine, and Hannibal had to smile.

“If you like,” he agreed easily, and watched as Face nodded, though the younger man made no effort to climb out of his cosy corner just yet.

“Later, maybe?” Face said, and for the first time Hannibal caught a hint of tiredness in that voice he knew so well.

He leaned forwards slightly in his chair, resting his elbows on his knees. “You okay, Face?”

There was a long pause before Face nodded again, a half-hearted smile on his full lips, and Hannibal felt his heart lurch once again. Face was easily the most handsome man he’d ever met, but more than that, the man had a good heart and a kind soul, and Hannibal knew he was already head over heels. If only Face had ever hinted he might feel the same.

“I just couldn’t face it again tonight,” the younger man said eventually, staring at the floor, and Hannibal frowned slightly. “Another night putting on a smile, trying to find someone, pretending to have fun when your heart isn’t in it.”

“Playing the game,” Hannibal said softly, knowingly, and Face nodded again.

“When I met Charissa, I thought I was done playing games.” Finally, those blue eyes lifted to meet Hannibal’s gaze. “It’s not that I miss her, believe me, I know I’m better off without her. But I miss…” Face trailed off, and Hannibal took a chance.

“You miss being in a couple. A relationship.”

“Yes.” It was barely more than a whisper. “I’m ready for more. She was my warm-up, a practice run, but now I want the real thing. No more games.”

“And you’re not going to find that in a club.” 

“No, I’m not.” Face’s eyes were intense, unblinking as he watched Hannibal from across the room. “But maybe I already have it, staring right at me, and I just didn’t realise before.”

Hannibal felt his heart beating faster still, his breathing picking up speed. Could Face possibly be hinting…? “Maybe you do have it,” he said slowly, cautiously, sensing that their whole future was balancing on a knife-edge. “Or you could. If you could show them you were serious. Show them you weren’t playing a game because you were lonely.”

“How would I show that?” Face whispered.

Hannibal shrugged, faking a casualness he wasn’t sure he was feeling. “By taking things slow,” he suggested. “By not rushing into anything.”

Face smiled, a full, genuine smile for the first time since he’d flopped down. “How about by starting with a home-cooked dinner and watching a game on the tv?” 

And Hannibal could barely believe his luck, though he was serious about taking things slow. Perhaps Face would change his mind in the morning, or perhaps not, but either way he found he was more than open to seeing how things went. “Sounds good to me,” he answered, and Face’s huge grin lit up the entire room. “No, more than that. It sounds perfect.”


	99. Friendship (BA/F)

They really shouldn’t be doing this, not here and not now, and they are both fully aware of that. It’s risky in the extreme. Someone could walk into the tent any minute and catch them in the act; it’s pretty obvious what they’ve been up to. 

But they’re both too comfortable to move, and it’s been too long since they’ve had any time alone together. What should’ve been a mere three weeks on the front lines has turned into three months, and they’ve been separated for most of that time due to demands on their own special abilities, with Face out on sniper assignments and BA pulled into the engineering teams for advice and support.

Now, they’ve got no demands on their time for at least another four hours, and both Hannibal and Murdock are off-base with missions of their own, so BA had barricaded the entrance to the tent as well as he could while Face rearranged the narrow cots to make something of a comfortable nest covered in pillows and blankets, and they’d lost themselves in each other.

“I needed this,” BA whispers, lying flat on his back with Face curled up on his chest, their arms and legs tangled together in a messy knot. “Been too long, sweetheart.”

Face sighs happily, a puff of warmth breath across BA’s naked chest. “Same here, Bosco, same here.”

“Thought we were meant to be here as a team, rather than working apart all the time.” He knows he’s complained about the same thing time and again during their prolonged deployment, but it’s frustrating him that they can’t spend all their time together. “Even working with you and keeping my hands off is better than never seeing you at all.”

“You’re seeing me now,” Face points out, a smile obvious in his voice though BA can’t see his lover’s features with his own eyes closed loosely, not to mention the way Face is lying with his lips pressed over BA’s heart. “And you know it’s good to spend time sharing our talents and forming new friendships.”

BA tightens his arms around Face’s warm, muscular body, soaking up as much skin-to-skin contact as he can, for as long as he possibly can. “I got all the friendship I need,” he grumbles half-heartedly, pressing a kiss to Face’s messy curls.

“But more friends is always a good thing.”

There’s something in Face’s voice that makes BA pause for thought. “You missing Murdock?” he asks softly, stroking one hand gently up and down a long spine. “I know you two fools are best friends. Must be hard not seeing him so much.”

Face suddenly shifts, rolling fully on top of BA until they are chest to chest, propping himself up with his forearms either side of BA’s head. BA lets his hands come to rest on his lover’s toned ass, contentedly palming twin handfuls of warm, smooth muscle. “Do you really think Murdock is my best friend?” Face asks him, blue eyes shining so brightly in the dimness of the team’s tent, as he leans down to steal a lingering kiss. 

BA happily loses himself in Face’s mouth, tongues tangling together lazily, until they break apart a fraction for oxygen. “I guess not,” he answers breathlessly, and Face grins down at him before stealing another kiss, then another, and another, and BA shouldn’t be surprised to feel himself growing hard once more, when he’d thought he was thoroughly spent. “Does that mean Hannibal’s your best friend?”

A deliberate grind of Face’s hips over BA’s own. “You think I do this with Hannibal?” Face asks slyly, and BA growls at that, flipping them both over until he comes to rest on top of his lover, the cots creaking alarmingly beneath them.

“You’d better not,” he hisses, and Face just laughs, throwing his head back into the pillows and wrapping his arms around BA’s back to haul him closer still before growing more serious.

“Only you, Bosco, only you.” For a moment they look into each other’s eyes, just smiling, and BA is amazed once again that they’ve found each other in the crazy lives they’ve led so far. “We should get dressed and get out of here,” Face says eventually, though his words are made a lie by the way he wriggles enticingly beneath BA, growing hardness meeting growing hardness.

“I don’t think anyone will miss us for another half hour,” BA whispers, dropping his head to suck a gentle bruise into Face’s long and tempting neck, relishing the groan he wins from his lover’s lips.

“Only half an hour?” Face questions, tilting his head back to give BA better access. “An hour, at least. Maybe two.”

“Three.”

“Four.”

And the outside world is forgotten, once again, for now. The two of them are all the world they need.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One left to go...
> 
> LB x


	100. Endings (H/F)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AKA Five ways it could have ended, and the one way it actually did.
> 
>   
> Thank you so much to anyone who is still reading at this point, and particularly to everyone who has commented or left kudos. I don't think I would have made it all the way to this last prompt without having the knowledge that someone was reading along, and this little project has really given me something to focus on during these strange times we're all living in. I've really needed that. Take care of yourselves and be kind to others.
> 
> Lots of love,  
> LB x

_One._

It ends in fire, just as Hannibal had always dreamed. Explosions to the left, and the right, and then behind them – nowhere to go but forwards, and no cover to be found anywhere.

The flames are growing, and they run faster, side by side and in perfect step. They don’t need to speak, saving their breath as their hearts and lungs pump hard. Faster. Faster.

Not fast enough. Another explosion, and Face is thrown sideways into Hannibal, both of them tumbling to the ground, burning debris falling all around, pinning them.

Hannibal is beneath Face, but Face isn’t moving, and Hannibal can’t move either, legs pinned and head spinning from lack of oxygen as smoke fills the air, blurring his eyes.

The last thing he sees is Face, as smoke steals his vision, and he manages to tighten his arms around his lover. One last time.

_Two._

It ends in water, just as Face had always feared. He can swim, if he has to; he’s had training and he’s a damn good swimmer, his body built for the water with his broad shoulders and narrow hips, but he doesn’t like it.

Doesn’t trust it. 

In his nightmares, when he’s feverish or stressed or just out-of-sorts, he’s always underwater, swimming upwards towards a light but never, ever, ever actually getting there, not before his instincts and his screaming lungs demand attention and he swallows a painful burst of water, the need for oxygen just too much to bear.

He’s always been glad that their work has primarily been on land. He loves the beach, enjoys sailing, but actually _being_ in the water when it’s any deeper than the few inches in the kiddy pool… It makes him shudder, always has done.

And now, his fears are reality. He’s trapped, in a glass tank sealed and filling fast, his space down to mere inches, then none, and the worst thing is that he can see Hannibal beyond the glass, desperate and trying his hardest to smash his way in, and his mouth is moving, he’s shouting…

And all Face has is water, his chest aching already though it’s only been seconds, but he knows it won’t last, can’t last, and he wishes he could tell Hannibal he’s sorry, but all he can do is press his hand against the glass, and then

_Three._

It ends not with a bang but a whimper, which isn’t the way either of them had ever planned. Not that they’d planned for it to end at all. They’d both thought they’d be together until the end of time.

Instead, it starts to end with a simple transfer offer for Face, six months in another unit. They agonise over it, but Hannibal tells Face it has to be his decision, and Face reluctantly accepts. It’s a really good opportunity, and they’ve always said career has to come before their relationship.

They manage to meet up a few times during Face’s time away, and at first it’s hot and passionate, then it’s comfortable, then its awkward as Face takes another opportunity and Hannibal accepts a new lieutenant into his team.

More months go by, and they barely speak. Hannibal is the one who phones first, though truth be told Face was going to phone that same day for the same reason. It isn’t working. They should make it official, take some space, and see where they are.

It’s mutual. It’s over, for now. But now becomes forever, with love still in their hearts but both of them eventually in love with someone new.

It’s not the way either of them had planned. But each of them is happy, in the end.

Could they have been happier together? It’s something they both wonder sometimes, in the depths of the night, but then Hannibal – now happily retired – spoons up behind his gorgeous husband, and Face – now a Captain, home on leave – feels his wife move closer in her sleep while their new baby daughter sleeps in the nursery next door, and they each let the thought go.

_Four._

It ends with fireworks, both literally and metaphorically, which is the way everyone else had always secretly been expecting. Perhaps they’d expected the literal fireworks to be from an exploding ammo dump rather than an organised Thanksgiving display on base, but either way…

Looking back afterwards, they won’t know exactly what sparked their explosion, but tensions had been building for months, maybe even years. Living together, working together, the age difference, Face’s neediness, Hannibal’s emotional distance…

A powder keg.

As the rockets scream into the night air, the comments start to fly between them, snarky and bitter at first, growing louder and nastier until eventually they are screaming themselves, louder than the howlers sending coloured starbursts into the sky above their heads.

They’ve argued before. Two strong personalities, two powerful men, of course they’ve argued. But words are said that cannot be unsaid. Deep-seated issues are raised and there, in front of everyone, they scream and storm apart, the sudden silence deafening.

It’s over. Everyone knows it, even those who don’t know quite what they’ve just witnessed. Even those who never knew it had started in the first place.

Over. For good.

_Five._

It ends peacefully, quietly, and with dignity, something neither Hannibal nor Face had ever truly believed was possible for them.

Retirement for Hannibal, at his own request when it became obvious he was going to be forced into taking a desk job, something he’d always considered a fate worse than death.

Face stayed in the service for a few more years, taking a promotion, then another, eventually deciding to follow his lover out of the service when Hannibal proposed first marriage then adoption.

Their wedding is simple, small, just a few close friends and those they consider family. Perfect, for two ex-soldiers wanting to start a new chapter in their lives, openly together and openly in love at long last, after spending nearly fifteen years keeping their love under wraps.

Married life is good to them, as is civilian life, something that surprises them both. They’re happy. They start looking seriously at starting a family of their own.

Then he falls ill, and it’s sudden, swift, painless. Two men go to bed one night, falling asleep as they have done a thousand times before, wrapped up in each other’s arms.

But only one wakes in the early morning light, knowing before he even opens his eyes that he is alone now.

_And one._

Each of them can’t help but wonder how it might end. Neither of them ever expected to find their soul mate, expecting to be a soldier and nothing more for all their lives, yet somehow they found each other and fell in love and have stayed in love.

A million different endings. A million possibilities. No way to prepare for them all. No way to brace themselves, just in case the worst does actually happen.

Fire, water, or another disaster. Drifting apart, or exploding into pieces. Natural causes, even, something that is almost unthinkable for two men who have made their careers out of being shot at on most days.

No matter their nightmares, no matter their secret fears, they live their lives to the fullest extent they possibly can. They seize every opportunity the universe presents to them, and they run at life head on, laughing, with hands clasped together tightly.

And here’s how it really ends.

It doesn’t.

**Author's Note:**

> The 100 Themes Challenge I'm using can be found here:
> 
> https://kathrineroid.wordpress.com/2011/09/25/100-themes-challenge-writing-prompts/
> 
> Take care of yourselves and each other x

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Closure](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24164632) by [loves_books](https://archiveofourown.org/users/loves_books/pseuds/loves_books)
  * [Reality](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26271406) by [loves_books](https://archiveofourown.org/users/loves_books/pseuds/loves_books)




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